Dark Messenger
by Larathia
Summary: How one of the Guardian Forces came to be...go on, guess which one....[COMPLETED]
1. Coming to Timber

[01]Dark Messenger _(Note to readers: This takes place in the FF8 universe, but long before Our Heroes are ever born. So don't go looking for Squall, Seifer, or any of their friends or enemies, 'cause they won't be there. Square owns the world, but I own the characters. Well, with the exception of the Guardian Forces.)_

Dark Messenger

_by Larathia_

__

Market day in Timber. 

The new city was positively bursting at the seams with people, most coming from the lonely territories that surrounded it on all sides. It was a colony of the Empire of Centra, founded for the timber that gave it its name; Centra was a cool, dry place for the most part, which was not conducive to tree growth. The people who had come to Timber did so for a variety of reasons; some loved the sheer exuberance of plant growth, some for the economic opportunities a frontier life offered. 

And some came to Timber to get away from the ghosts of their lives in Centra. There was a great deal of unrest in Centra right now, as the Sorceress-Empress had recently died. This meant that every one of her Knights could no longer claim the title, and a great deal of government activity had been halted. The Empress' daughter was young, and had as yet chosen only two Knights. They would, of course, serve in the largest cities first. The other cities would keep the Knights of the previous Empress until they could elect temporary Mayors to govern their provinces. 

The turmoil in Centra meant very little to the people of Timber, though. It was far too new to have any chance of a Knight running it, and far too distant from the capital. They listened sagely as travelers told of riots in the Old World, and got quietly on with their business. Neither Sorceresses nor Knights were of any interest to them. 

That was why Carolin liked it. Especially on Market Day, when the trading ships came in. The city was filled with strangers, and she was just one more stranger in the mob. She could be wearing glow-in-the-dark bikinis, and attract not the slightest bit of notice. 

Not that she did, of course. She dressed more or less conservatively; she wore pants instead of a dress or skirt, but out here that was practicality. She wore dark, dark green for preference, but since green was by far the easiest plant dye to come across other than brown, she was hardly remarkable there either. Admittedly she did wear rather _more_ clothing than the average Timber native - long sleeves and gloves whenever she could - but there were jungle hunters that also took that route; it was easier to fend off the biting insects. 

But she wasn't a jungle hunter. Jungle hunters didn't wear their hair long, even in a french braid as she did. Too many things for hair to catch on, and bright red hair like hers stood out like a beacon under the trees. She wore long sleeves and gloves in an effort to dampen her aura, so that it was less likely for a sensitive person to identify her as a Sorceress. So far, it seemed to be working. That, and using her power as absolutely little as possible. The power grew with each use...and with each use became harder to control. She was just sixteen; she did not want to go mad with her power, but neither did she want to be tied to a Knight. 

She sat on an offloaded crate, high-booted feet kicking idly in the air as she watched the passengers leave the ship. She liked watching people, when she knew they wouldn't be watching her in return. Refugees, mostly, it seemed. People who'd gotten caught in a riot and decided to take their chances with the monsters. Centra had been monster-free for centuries; that was what made it the center of learning and culture that it was, and freed its people to engage in stupidities like riots. Then she noticed something that was Bad News. 

A group of thirteen men were leaving the ship, in precise order. The oldest looked to be about forty, with fine, thick brown hair he wore in a loose mane around his shoulders. Later, she would remember his features, finely chiseled with pale eyes. Right now all of her surprised attention was on the red cross he wore on the shoulder of his short jacket. The lower half of the cross was drawn out to imitate a sword blade. The dozen men he had with him were younger, and their crosses were black and square. 

A Knight and his squires. Great Hyne. By his age, he had to be one of the old Sorceress' Knights. And sensitive; he had barely set foot on solid ground before he started turning his head, as if seeking someone. 

Carolin took great care to move casually, but she got off her crate and lost herself in the press of the mob in the market as quickly as she could. Timber had just gotten a lot more dangerous. 

A Knight had come to Timber.   
  



	2. Meeting

[02]Meeting Carolin laid her burden of flowers on the graves, carefully arranging them so that the wind would be less likely to blow them away, and crouched down so that she was at eye level with the headstone. 

She'd used her power for the first time to make the graves and the headstone. She hadn't had the tools to do the job the way it should be done, otherwise. Nothing fancy; their names, the day of their death - since she didn't know when they were born. She'd used her Sorceress' magic to shape and polish the stone so that it reflected the light, as if the gray rock were encased in glass. She hadn't used her power since, but the single use had taught her that they had been right to tell her to be most careful in using her birthright. She'd had to fight the urge to do stupid, silly things with her magic for weeks - the power trying to find a way out. 

Her parents. Two years since they had died to the monsters that surrounded Timber on all sides, sacrificing themselves to keep her from using her magic. Fourteen is not a good time of life to begin complete independence, but so far she'd managed. Her father had taught her everything he knew about the bow and spear, reminding her that if she could use conventional weapons she should. And the weapons improved her aim, which had its own bonuses. She wouldn't call herself a hunter - not by a long shot. But she could shoot rabbits and squirrels enough to live on, and if there was one advantage to living in Timber it was that the growing season was very, very long. Fruit didn't require any special skill to gather. 

That had been her father's gift to her - just training enough to survive. Eventually she might hunt larger game, but right now it would be more than she needed. She traced his name on the headstone with one green-linen-gloved finger. Would he be proud of her for surviving, or disappointed that she had used her magic to dig his grave, when he had died to prevent her using it at all? 

Her mother...Carolin laughed quietly. Her mother's gift had been quite a bit more subtle. Her mother had told her everything she knew about the Knights and their role in the world. She had assumed that her daughter would seek one as soon as possible; after all, many frontier daughters married at twelve or thirteen. Knights were the other half of a Sorceress' power, she'd said. A Sorceress must always listen to her Knight so as not to be corrupted by her magic. To keep the Knight from completely controlling her, she must have as many Knights as she can, so that none are too powerful. 

Ha. If there was one thing Carolin had carried away from that discussion, it had been an iron-bound determination to have no Knight at all. Bad enough to be expected to marry. But to have to marry many men in rapid succession? 

But since there were no Knights in Timber, nor Squires, all three had agreed that the best possible solution would just be to avoid using the power at all, so that it could not corrupt. She hadn't had to argue with them that she didn't want a Knight. That she wanted to see how far she could go on her own first, before being tied to the fate of another - or several others, for that matter. 

Carolin frowned at the headstone. What would her parents want her to do now, with a Knight and his Squires in Timber? 

Since they were dead, and her love couldn't reach them...did it matter?   


* * * * * * * *

"Hold up, hold _up,_ damn your eyes," panted Quenlin. They wound the practice match down, sheathing their swords and bowing. Quenlin's breath came fast and hard; the Old Lion would probably have his head for that later. 

Jian backed off, sweating just as heavily as his opponent, but controlling his breathing. "What's your problem?" he asked, managing not to pant. 

"You fight like a demon, that's my problem," gasped Quenlin. "Don't you ever take a _break_?" 

Jian looked around. The Old Lion had turned his Squires into construction workers, building a large wooden building with a courtyard, and surrounded by a wooden barricade. "And do what, exactly?" he asked. 

Quenlin blinked as if the answer were obvious. "Go into town," he said. "Meet girls. _Socialize._ We're allowed to do that, you know. Just 'cause the Old Lion doesn't go out, doesn't mean we're forbidden to." 

Jian considered the idea, then shook his head. "There's nothing out there," he said. "Timber's basically just a meeting place for hunters and traders. When a ship's not in, the place is practically empty. You're too used to the Empress' city, Quenlin." 

Quenlin's auburn hair flew out behind him as he delivered a hefty kick to the wooden barricade that surrounded the Old Lion's house. His hair was the envy of women everywhere; they always wanted to play with it. But out here, it did him no good at all. "Why'd he have to come _here,_ anyway?" he grumbled. "Timber is _nowhere_, man." 

"I think that's why he came here, my friend," said Jian with a grin. "But you can always go on up and demand an explanation of him, if you like." 

Quenlin visibly paled, eyes wide. "No, no, that's all right," he said. "I'll take my beating like a good squire and...ah...just go give the others a hand with the barricade, shall I?" And he quickly strode off in that direction, not looking back. 

Jian shook his head and laughed. He had no idea why the others were so afraid of the old Knight - the Old Lion as the squires called him. The man had never once meted out a punishment that was undeserved, in any way. Harsh, yes, and rather grim - but fair. If you toed the line, you knew exactly where you stood. Even his dark moods were understandable; his Sorceress had died. It was every Squire's dream to be chosen by a Sorceress, and to lose one was a heavy blow. 

And if one were not chosen - as it was quite likely none of the Squires here would be - the training offered by a Knight could net you an officer's rank in the army or a fairly high position in government. It was worth the work. It was entirely possible that one of the Squires now attempting to build a decent wooden fortress would - at the very least - be running Timber at the end of their training. 

Jian did not elect to join the others. Each of the twelve Squires had a particular specialty, something that they were better than the others at. Half their time was involved in that specialty; either receiving special instruction at the hands of the Old Lion, or teaching the others as much as they would absorb of that skill. In Jian's case, it was swordplay. Quenlin's was social functions, not surprisingly. Out here, Jian's skills were far more in demand than his friend's, so it was not surprising he was happier. The only use for swordplay in Centra was to duel. Jian headed for the great house where they all lived now, to make his report to the Old Lion.   


* * * * * * *

The 'Old Lion' was looking out the window at the work his Squires were doing. He didn't have a great deal of faith in the goodness of the human spirit; he was quite sure that if the boys weren't watched, at least a few of them would try to explore the town. He didn't consider any of them ready for that yet. He turned when he heard the door behind him open; as he had expected, it was Jian. 

He rather liked Jian, at least inasmuch as he liked anyone. At seventeen, he already had the poise and confidence of an adult, mature beyond his years. The boy wore his hair long, probably in imitation of the Lion himself, straight black hair in a single braid that extended halfway down his back. His oriental features allowed him to get away with more vivid personal colors than most of the squires; his chosen emblem was a golden dragon on a scarlet field. If he ever made Knight, that emblem would grace his right shoulder as the red Knight's Cross graced his left. An odd choice, given that most Squires chose an emblem that reminded them of their training; by that light, a demon's horned head would have been more appropriate. 

The Knight stared at his Squire, more or less just to see if silence could disturb the boy. He was pleased to note that it didn't; eventually, all the Squires would have such poise. He nodded toward a chair; granting the squire permission to sit. Jian did so immediately, still watching his leader. 

"How are they learning?" said the Lion. 

Jian shrugged. "Quenlin is picking it up slowly, sir, as you expected. Lan is doing all right, Wilhelm and Stef need more work on their off-hands, Cori, Gavin, and Tim can't handle defensive stances, Dorin, Kyle, and Elric persist in attacking my shield, and Twyl keeps dropping the sword every time I hit it." 

"So, by your standards, I have you and Lan - is that it?" said the Knight. From anyone else, that tone would have been accusatory. Jian had learned to interpret it as teasing. He nodded. 

"For now, sir. With monsters all around, I'm sure the others will pick up speed soon." 

The Knight stood, walked over to the wall where his own shield hung. It was quite impressive, as a named Knight's shield should be - not mere painted patterns over hardened leather or steel, but a molded metal shield with its blazon embossed upon it. His crest was a silver lion on black, the creature reared up as though to strike the viewer, and where its heart would be was set a ruby. How he got the thing to stay on given the beating the shield took, or kept the lion's shape true, was anyone's guess - but such were the mysteries that gave Knights their power. He lifted his shield off its hooks, took his sword down from the wall. He turned to Jian. "And you? How shall I judge _you_, Jian?" 

Jian understood this to mean: _it is time for your turn to take a beating._ To be released from training, a Squire had to pass two tests; one was to defeat his Knight with his own specialty, and the other was to defeat his Knight in his own worst field. By those rules, Jian might never be released from training; he had absolutely no ear for music. He picked up his sword and shield and followed his Knight out to the practice yard. All work stopped; the other Squires loved to see Jian beaten at his own game - and the Old Lion could _fight_. 

The two entered the fighting circle and stood on opposite sides of its circumference. Training practices were governed by traditions older than time, to allow a Squire to learn to fight without taking mortal injury. Jian chose to move first; that way, if by some miracle he won, it would count towards his release. He raised his sword tip from the ground and held it so that the crosspiece was just under his eyes. 

"I am Jian of the Dragon, and I challenge you," he said, sweeping his sword out to one side and then drawing it in, to hold in a ready stance. 

The Knight's expression turned wry as he returned the salute, understanding his Squire's reasoning. "I am Leonhart of the Sorceress Marie, and I accept the challenge," he said to complete the formula, and then twirled his sword in an overhead chop that Jian had to dodge. 

Of course, if he offered first challenge and _lost_...his Knight was not required to spare his life. The Old Lion was well known as a superlative fighter. Jian lashed out in a sideways slice, only to find his leader's blade already there, blocking. He spun the blade back around, aiming for the legs...blocked there, too. Damn, the man was over forty years old. He shouldn't _be_ so fast. 

The Lion took the offensive then, a diagonal stroke that could have taken Jian's head off - but he just barely managed to parry it. A quick flick of the wrist and it was aiming for Jian's stomach; he leaped back and slashed out; not trying to wound, only intent on keeping that sword out of reach until he got his balance back. That almost worked, but the Lion simply caught the swing on his shield and thrust straight forward; blade wide out and off balance, Jian landed flat on his back in the dust. 

He'd lost, and fairly quickly. But the Old Lion didn't seem offended. Instead of following up on his advantage, he sheathed his sword and offered Jian a hand up. "Not quite ready for Knighthood yet," he said, "But better. You'll take care of the laundry by yourself for the next few weeks, for overestimating yourself. That's on top of your usual duties." 

The other Squires backed away; they heard anger and they feared it. Jian did not. He had crossed the line, daring to offer challenge, and now he was paying for it. But the Old Lion knew that it was what his squire had to do to be free one day, and did not hold the attempt against him. 

He would have had the day free now, having completed his other duties. Instead he carefully sheathed his sword and slung the shield over his back, freeing his hands to carry laundry baskets. The nearest stream was a quarter mile away, and there were monsters around.   


* * * * * * *

Carolin looked at the great wooden monstrosity and wondered what the hell the Knight needed with so much personal space.   
The private compound was easily the largest building in Timber, and consistently noisy as work went on within it. She - and every other resident within a mile or two - could find the place just by listening for the sound of hammering. 

So far, none of the thirteen had ventured out of their self-made prison. Carolin got only as close as was needed to watch the place from a treetop, just in case that too-sensitive Knight left the area. A Sorceress had many advantages beyond merely being able to use magic; all her senses were heightened, and she was physically superior to the average person in almost every respect. But Knights - even Knights whose Sorceresses had died - could be incredibly astute at spotting those differences, and they were trained to deal with them. If a Sorceress went to the bad, a Knight would know it before anyone else, and would know what to do about it. 

Carolin wondered why her mother had thought this would make her feel better. It sounded to her like putting a collar around your throat, and handing the leash to a stranger - and telling that stranger to kill if you struggled. After all...if the Knight knew before anyone else, what was to stop a corrupt Knight from killing a Sorceress out of pique, and claiming it was because she was going bad? Who would know the difference? 

She watched the place and sighed. She really wished she knew what to do about it being there. This was the only colony on the continent; she could leave, and perhaps find a place with the aboriginal tribes until they learned she was a Sorceress and tried to set fire to her. Or avoid humanity altogether and see how long she would live. But neither prospect really held much appeal. She wished, not for the first time or the last, that she had not been born a Sorceress. Her parents hadn't had a trace of the magic in their lines. There was no reason for her to have it. She didn't want to bother anyone, and she only wanted people not to bother her in return. Timber had been ideal; people when she wanted them, silence when she needed it. 

Ha. Leave alone an orphaned, Knight-less, sixteen-year-old Sorceress. People just didn't _think_ that way. Too many people would want to get involved 'for her own good'. Carolin was wise enough to know that the magic was just an added reason; quite a few people would just be interested in a sixteen year old orphaned girl, if she were pretty enough. 

She blinked. The gate was opening! She fought down the urge to hide herself with magic; on top of the chance of it getting out of control, she had no idea whether whoever was coming out would be trained to sense magic. 

_Oh, thank Hyne._ It was not the Knight; even from here she could tell that. Apart from the hair being the wrong color, and braided, she rather doubted a Knight would do their own laundry. Whoever it was was almost buried under a stack of laundry baskets. 

Well. There was only one place the washer could be going; the river. She could find out how sensitive this person was - and if they weren't able to sense her magic, she might even get some information out of them. Quickly she climbed down the trunk, and when she reached the ground she sprinted for the river. 

Jian managed to get all the baskets down to the river's edge without dropping anything, and found a wide stone ledge where he could do the washing without having to worry overmuch about mud. Branches would have to do for drying lines, though. He sighed; the rules said the clothes had to be spotless and neat, but whoever had written the rules probably hadn't had to try doing laundry in a riverbed. At least Elric had described the soap-root to him, so he didn't have to work quite as hard. Elric had gotten laundry duty far more often than Jian ever might. 

He'd gotten the baskets sorted by owner; the Old Lion's stuff would go first, while Jian's eyes were keenest. Hyne only knew what would happen if he left some stain on the Lion's clothes; screwing up a punishment duty usually meant something painful rather than something humiliating. He set his shield on a reachable branch, re-strapped the sword across his back, _thunked_ the basket down and got to work. 

Carolin noted the black, square cross on the boy's shoulder - so, this was one of the Squires. Quite flamboyantly dressed for someone out here; he wore scarlet with gold trim. It presented an odd picture; the richness of his dress contrasting with the meniality of his task. She grinned, wondering if the reputed servitude of Knights really extended to household chores. She gave herself a mental shake; that was not why she was here. 

She moved a little closer, staying out of sight, watching to see if he sensed something amiss. When he gave no indication of being aware of company, she moved a little closer, and a little closer... 

In the end, she had to conclude that sensing Sorceresses was one skill this boy hadn't learned yet. She was quite comfortably sunning herself on a rock about ten feet away, and got to watch him from that point for about half an hour before he noticed her. He was quite handsome in an exotic sort of way, really. That was hardly unusual - since Knights were always chosen by Sorceresses, one of their nicknames was 'the beautiful ones'. It would be logical to assume the same went for Squires. Sorceresses were also always beautiful; even if they picked up the gift later in life from another Sorceress, magic could do wonders for just about anything on anyone. Beauty was actually sometimes used to find Sorceresses who were born with the gift. She wondered vaguely if they held beauty pageants for men, in Centra. 

He had remarkable poise, too. When he finally noticed he had company, he - unfortunately - completely failed to do a comical fall into the river. He did start a bit, but recovered and gave her a full bow from the waist, quite courtly given that he was up to his knees in river water and holding what she devoutly hoped was someone else's boxers. "I hope I'm not crossing any boundaries, miss," he said politely, "but I'm under orders to get these cleaned and this seemed a good spot." 

That tore it; Carolin laughed. He looked like a leader, someone used to giving orders, but he sounded like a boy and was being ordered to do laundry. The split between what he looked like and what he actually seemed to be was just too much. "Oh, you're just fine," she laughed. "Nobody owns the river. Actually, there's a story that its source lake is haunted." 

He looked upstream, frowning a little. "Really?" he said. "The Lion will be interested in that. He likes poking around such places." 

_Ah, opportunity._ She blinked. "You serve a cat?" she asked innocently. 

He looked at her oddly, dark brown eyes looking slightly demonic. "No," he said, as though that were obvious. "Oh - you wouldn't know all the Knights out here, would you? They all get nicknames like that." He bent down and continued his work while talking to her. "Just so you know - and I bet it'll end up all over town - he's Sir Leonhart of the Sorceress Marie; the last Sorceress-Empress. A lot of us call him the Old Lion, or the Lion. If you ever meet him, you'll know why." 

Carolin pretended nervousness; not a real stretch at all. "No, I don't think I want to meet up with anyone who has a nickname like that," she said. _Or anyone who can sense my presence the moment he sets foot on shore._ "But if he's one of the last Empress' Knights, why does he still have the title? She's dead, isn't she?" 

The squire scrubbed industriously at a dark gray cape. "He hasn't got any political power, no," he said absently, "But he keeps the title until he dies. He's still got most of the _powers_ of a Knight, you see. Given the state Centra's in, he could probably have kept his position as a city governor for at least a few more years, until Marie's daughter names a new Knight for his old city. He just didn't want it. So he packed up everything - and that includes us - and came here." 

"He packed you up? You mean, all the squires? Couldn't he just dismiss you or something?" It seemed odd, to leave civilization and a position of power, to take a dozen boys to the frontier. 

The squire paused in his work long enough to look at her. "If you think he'd do something like that, you _really_ haven't heard of the Old Lion," he said, and got back to his scrubbing. "If he agrees to do something, he does it. No backtracking. He'd taken on us twelve when Marie died. We're his until we either pass muster, or drop out. He won't abandon any responsibility he takes on." 

Carolin pulled off her green, thin leather boots and dangled her toes in the water; a slight risk, but she was by now almost sure this squire couldn't sense anything unusual about her. And he seemed to be proud of his leader; that served her well, since she needed to know as much as possible about someone so sensitive. "He left his old city, you said, when he could have governed it a few more years. Isn't that abandoning a responsibility?" 

"Look, lady," said the squire, "I don't go around badmouthing Timber. If you start badmouthing the Lion, you're going to find out just exactly how much trouble a dozen squires can start. He left the governorship when Marie died, all right? His contract was _up_. That's the law. He could have _chosen_ to stay on, sure, but that was a _choice_, not a requirement." 

Carolin raised her hands in surrender. "All right, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she said. "I didn't mean any disrespect. I'm from around here, remember? We don't get any of that sort of politics around here." She paused, watching him. "You're very loyal to him, aren't you?" she asked. 

The squire grinned. "Yes," he said. "He does that to people. You'll either love him or hate him, right off the bat. I don't have to tell you how the twelve of us feel." 

Carolin looked at him; he acted as though she had offered him praise by calling him loyal. Perhaps she had, though she hadn't meant it that way. To her, it was strange that anyone could speak so glowingly of a person who had probably only recently sent them to wash a great many clothes in the river. The people of Timber had a strong independent streak. On an impulse, she reached out a gloved hand. "I'm Carolin," she said. 

He took it, and shook. "Jian," he said. "Squire Jian of the Dragon, under Leonhart." 

Well, it wasn't wisely done, but at least she now knew he couldn't sense magic. "I think I'll just stick to Carolin," she said lightly. "You can get it out in one breath." 

He chuckled a bit as he got back to work. "It's just heraldry," he said. "Squires abandon their family names and pick a unique crest, and that becomes their name until such time as a Sorceress gives them one. I picked the dragon," and he pointed up at his shield, "so I'm 'Jian of the Dragon'. Since I'm still a Squire, I have to say who I'm serving my term under, and that's the Old Lion." He paused. "You ought to talk to Quenlin if this stuff interests you," he said. "He does much better than I do at the courtly stuff." 

She had no idea who Quenlin was, but surely _all_ the Squires couldn't be this insensitive to magic. "No, thank you," she said. "I'll get it from you, if that's all right with you." 

He lifted his head to look at her, grinning as he flipped his long black braid to his back. "You have _no idea_ how disappointed he's going to be when he hears about this," he said. "Just this morning he was after me to socialize, and now I get to socialize on punishment detail." 

Carolin grinned back, but she wasn't done with her questions yet. "So, if you're 'Jian of the Dragon', then what is Leonhart's 'of the'? Or would that be too long to say?" 

"That _is_ his 'of the', as you put it," said Jian, pulling the last basket of dirty clothes into the river. Finally, he got to do his own. "He used to be something else, a long time ago. A 'someone of the something' sort. Well, rumor holds he saved the Sorceress Marie's life once. Something big, you know, looking into the jaws of death and all that. Whatever it was - and I can give you at least sixteen different versions on that - it _really_ impressed Marie. She made him a ring, using her power, and gave it to him as a sort of personal thank you. He's still got it on his finger, very impressive if you ever meet him. It's got a carving of a lion on it." He grinned, proud of the recognition his leader had received. "Anyway, it rocked him to his boots that she would do that, and he changed his name to Leonhart, and took the pouncing lion for his crest. I'm really kind of surprised you haven't heard any of this, even out here. It was all over Centra." 

Carolin shook her head. "We don't hear much about that sort of thing out here," she said casually. "No Knights out here before now, and no Squires, and very little chance of getting either. So...'leonhart'? Not 'lionheart'?" 

"Old spelling," said Jian. "Same meaning, though. Besides, it looks better. Anyway - if you meet him - you'll find he's a bit of a traditionalist. He took the name to honor the gift, not his own accomplishments." 

And Jian was really, truly envious, Carolin could see. And he wanted her to meet the Knight, so as to prove how great the man really was. Carolin had absolutely no intention of doing that. He could probably sense her even if she were outside his little fort by several feet. 

Jian stood up, and started gathering the cleaned clothes into their assorted baskets from their drying branches. "Well, that's my work for the day done," he said. "Thanks for keeping me company; I've got to do this for the next few weeks and it wasn't something I was looking forward to." He hesitated. "Um...would you be here tomorrow?" 

Carolin smiled; he was safe enough, it seemed. "Sure," she said. She'd be busy telling the townsfolk what he'd told her, so that the squires would believe her to _be_ a town girl when they were finally let out of their pen, but it was worth it. "I'll look for you here, if that's all right." 

"Sounds good. Thanks, Carolin." He stacked his baskets, and carefully made his way back to his master's house. Carolin dried her feet, pulled her boots back on, and headed for town. Armed with all that Jian had told her, she could probably trade the information for a few of the more interesting foodstuffs. Rabbit wasn't bad, but it could get awfully boring after a few months.   
  



	3. Musings

Leonhart watched a remarkably cheerful Jian return from his laundry-washing duty, and frowned. _So soon?_

He stared out the window blankly, not really seeing the activity in the courtyard any more but only the thoughts in his mind. He was only in his forties - ancient of course to the boys he trained - but still in his prime. It was the loss of Marie, his beautiful Marie, that made him feel truly ancient. Unnoticed, a tear rolled down his cheek, but he did not blink it away. There was no one to see, and Marie was worth his tears. He held them back not out of shame, but out of knowledge that these twelve boys worshipped him and would be terrified of anything that would make him cry. 

Boys did place such an inordinate amount of importance on not crying. If any of them ever became Knights, they would learn better. 

It was disturbing to realize that at least one of them probably would. He knew there was a Sorceress in Timber; quite a strong one. He had felt the unmistakable aura the moment he'd landed, but it had faded too quickly for him to get a fix on it. That could only mean the Sorceress had fled - which made her a rogue. A Sorceress who had a Knight - particularly out here, where there was no training for one - would have come forward and welcomed them. 

Leonhart understood Sorceresses. It was, in no uncertain terms, his job. She knew that they were here - he'd made sure of that. She would approach one of the Squires, most likely - if she hadn't feared a Knight she would have stayed to observe the landing, he was sure. But Squires were by their very nature harmless to a Sorceress. They were trained to obey her, to worship her, to do anything she asked so that she would name them Knight. 

He frowned as he remembered just how many kept that attitude after being named, to the Sorceress' detriment. His fist clenched as he remembered the stupid, blind obedience of Marie's Knights when she had chosen to enter a bandit-filled wood. _She_ hadn't known the danger - she was the Empress, and a Sorceress. And her Knight - who served as the local city governor - had known about the bandit activity and said nothing, because his lady had given him an _order_. Leonhart fought to keep from punching a hole through the wall. _Damn_ her orders - the first duty of a Knight was to keep his Sorceress _safe_! 

He had known the instant she died, as had all the other Knights. He had felt her sudden fear, even across the hundreds of miles that had separated her from his province. And that horrible, soul-tearing _break_ when the part of him that he'd given to her - and the part of her soul that he felt - were gone forever. A lifelong wound that would never heal. The price of a Sorceress' love. In that first hot rage of his grief the Squires had scattered in terror - some of them feared him still. He would have torn those incompetent Knights limb from limb if they hadn't already fallen on their swords for failing the Sorceress and their Empress. A growl escaped his lips as he thought of that. Far too quick a death for such stupidity. 

He moved away from the window and sat down at his desk, his head in his hands. It was done, there was no point in thinking about it. His eyes fell on the ring she had given him, the platinum ring with its roaring lion. Boon and bane, comfort and pain - for it held just the tiniest trace of her aura, having been made with her magic. Just enough to bring a little comfort, and at the same time remind him of the magnitude of his loss. He pulled his eyes away from it. There was work to do. 

Jian was happy, coming back from his humiliating task. Which - given that he _was_ still a teenage boy - probably meant that he had met a girl while doing his chores. It was possible that the Sorceress had approached him. None of the Squires could sense a Sorceress - that was one skill only Knights had. So the girl - whoever she was - would feel safe in approaching them. 

The first task in dealing with a rogue Sorceress is to see if you can't give her a Knight. So, one by one, Leonhart would arrange for all the Squires to leave this little compound and wander Timber. They were all, in their way, handsome and likeable lads. Most would probably find local girlfriends very quickly. And the Sorceress could well find one of them to her liking. He knew his Squires; they would want him to meet their girlfriends and approve. He was, in a way, their father now. They needed his approval for their own peace of mind, to know that they could make good choices on their own. 

One girlfriend would not want to meet him, he was sure. And when he heard of that one, he would know who the Sorceress was. He could then accelerate that Squire's training, push him toward Knighthood. It would only be a formality - the real making of a Knight wasn't training, but the gift-of-soul that came with being chosen. Still; training did help a new Knight take full advantage of that gift. 

He'd heard of men - untrained men - who had lost all sense of self after being chosen by a Sorceress; quite understandable really. The power of the bond was incredible, at close range a Knight could feel exactly what his Sorceress felt, hear her thoughts when they touched. Men had lost themselves in that bond. It took an incredible willpower and an iron-strong sense of self to keep one's own personality in the face of it. Training as a Squire helped. It was not for nothing that Sorceresses were sometimes seen as lethal sirens, drawing men to their doom. Sometimes, that was exactly what they were - though to their credit they rarely intended to. He fought to keep his thoughts away from Marie, the laughing curve of her thoughts, the honesty of her passion - no! She was dead, and he must not think of what he could not have. 

Of course, the girl might be too quick to fall into such a simple setup, but that would really depend on how much she knew of how the whole Sorceress/Knight/Squire thing worked. Leonhart would go himself into town and get to know the locals - and their daughters. The Sorceress would be found that way eventually for certain; it would just take longer. 

And it had been Marie's last order to her surviving Knights. "Go and find yourself a wife," her last message read. He grimaced; he knew she had meant well. She hadn't wanted her Knights to grieve for her. But it was one of the blind spots many Sorceresses had, that they thought their Knights could just 'move on' and find someone else. After all, a Sorceress could have uncounted Knights in her lifetime. It would hurt when they died, but there were always other Knights around to comfort her. Only in those rare cases where a Sorceress chose only one Knight was the sense of loss comparable. Since suicide was not uncommon among Knights when a Sorceress died, the practice was highly discouraged. 

A Knight only ever had one Sorceress. Ever. Some dealt with the loss better than others, but there was always a raw place, a broken place, in a Knight's soul when his Sorceress died. The only exception occurred when a Sorceress and a Knight had a child; at that time the father would know two loyalties. Leonhart had only ever heard rumors about that doubled bond; more like a triangle than anything else it was said. But Marie's daughter was not his, and the Knight who had fathered her had died with Marie. Idiot. 

Leonhart got up from his seat and grabbed his black and silver cloak. He would not love any wife, but he would take care of her and see that she wanted for nothing. He would obey Marie's last wishes. And he would try not to let his grief show, when one of his Squires found the Sorceress. 

He hoped that one of them was worthy in this new Sorceress' eyes. Because if a Sorceress refused to take a Knight, one of the Knights' jobs was to kill her before she went mad. Aside from losing one's own Sorceress, killing a rogue was the most painful duty a Knight could undertake. They _identified_ with Sorceresses. That was their job. To the rest of the world a Sorceress was a being of power and terror, someone to worship or fear, or both. To a Knight, a Sorceress was just a girl, or a woman, trapped by circumstances beyond their control in a role that was often hard to bear. To kill her was to kill an innocent; someone who could not help what she was, and often could not help what she was doing. It was killing a beloved sister, a daughter, with a terminal illness. 

As he strode out of the compound heading for Timber proper, Leonhart wondered if he had enough spirit left to handle such a task. 

* * * * * * *

The squires watched their leader go without comment. The Old Lion did not take well to being questioned, and the set of his features did not bode well for any interruption of his thoughts. Kyle and Tim whispered together, probably making a wager. Quenlin looked annoyed; he still wanted to go out and meet the local girls, and having the Old Lion around would put a major bite on that. 

Jian watched in puzzlement. What would the Lion want in Timber? _Coming_ here, he understood. He had been one of the Squires around when Marie died. Great Hyne, he'd never been so scared in his life. His master was renowned as the quietest Knight of Marie's fifteen, a master of self-control. Jian shuddered, remembering the howl his master had given voice to - out of nowhere. One minute assigning squires to their daily chores, the next roaring like a wounded - yes, like a wounded _lion_ and clutching his head as he fell to the ground, tears streaming from his eyes. Until that time, Jian had thought of lions as symbols of bravery and courage. He still did, but now there was an overriding knowledge of just how _frightening_ a creature a lion really was, how dangerous when wounded. The Knight Leonhart had leaped to his feet and run for the gates, and anyone who got in his way got trampled - if they were lucky. 

Of the twenty Squires with him that morning, only the current twelve remained when he had returned, still as a statue. Eight Squires had left their training right then and there, not wanting to ever experience whatever it had been to make such a controlled Knight lose it like that. 

No, Jian quite understood his master's reasons for leaving Centra and coming here. He'd poked around after that, to find out what happened after the Lion had left his post. More than a few hapless Squires had gotten in the way; Leonhart had given vent to a stream of rancor that had caught quite a few of his brother Knights on the chin. When he learned the story, he had not been tempted to leave his master's service as some of the others had done. No...if there was a driving emotion behind Jian's actions, it was curiosity. He wanted to know more about what it was that a Sorceress and Knight were, that _not_ being one could affect his master so. If that was the price, Jian was willing to pay it. He had to know what it was that was so precious. 

What puzzled Jian was the idea of his master _socializing_, as Quinlan put it. The Old Lion was as sociable as his namesake with a toothache; in general he couldn't stand people. And he had grown less sociable since Marie's death. Yet he'd gone out in full finery. 

He wondered whether Carolin could explain it to him; perhaps his master had to go speak to the Mayor or something, some stupid formality of taking up residence here. 

"Hey, Twilight Boy," said a voice, and Jian turned around to see Quinlan standing there. "Don't you look a mess, with all that river crud on your boots. What's going on? You were grinning like a maniac when you came back, and soap suds are definitely _not_ on my list of turn-ons." 

Jian smiled his easy grin. "Got to socialize on punishment duty," he said. "Pretty girl was at the river." 

Quinlan's blue eyes widened. "You lucky little dog," he said. "I take back half the rotten things I said about you. But _details_, man, I need _details_!" 

So Jian filled him in on his afternoon, which took him quite a while. Quinlan looked envious and a little upset that his friend got a date before he could. 

"Maybe I should get the Lion to punish me with something outside the gates for a while," he speculated. "We could take a bet, whether the girl I pick up is prettier than yours." 

Jian nodded to the gate. "If the Lion doesn't pick up a girl prettier than both of ours," he said musingly. 

Quinlan blinked. "_Him_? You've got to be kidding me. Yeah he's no old troll, but - I mean, he wouldn't even be _trying_. Get real, Jian. What town girl would go for him when _we_," and here he indicated all the Squires, "are around, and their age?" 

Jian only half-heard him. He watched his leader carefully, always trying to discern his moods and patterns of thought. He didn't want to be a Squire forever, and that meant he had to defeat his master twice. Unlike most of his fellow Squires, he did not think that merely waiting for his master to be too feeble to hold a sword was an option. "I'm not sure, Quinlan," he said quietly. "I think there's something going on. I would never have figured on the Old Lion leaving his den - not so soon, anyway." He gave his friend an evil look. "But since you're the master of ceremonies, you tell me - what could he want out there, if not girls?" 

Quinlan shrugged. "Like I care, Jian. I'm not hell-bent on finding a Sorceress the way you are. I'll take my training into the business sector back in Centra when I'm out of here, assuming of course that there's too few pretty girls here in Timber." 

"Well, if Carolin's any indication of local beauty, you might find yourself here a long time, my friend." 

Quinlan grinned predatorily. "I may just have to steal her away from you if she's pretty enough. You never know with these out-of-the-way places. She might be the exception, and all the local girls are chocobo-legged toads." 

Jian shrugged. "I get to meet her again tomorrow when I'm doing the washing," he said. "If you want I'll ask if she has any friends for you to meet." 

Quinlan gave him a serious nod. "You do that. I'll owe you one." 

Jian gave his friend a look that clearly said he hadn't been serious. "I have to get this laundry taken care of," he said. "You may not think I fear the Lion, but I'm in terror of his punishments." 

Quinlan laughed. "You're a terrible liar, Jian," he said, but took the hint and wandered off. 

* * * * * * * *

Carolin could sleep just about anywhere in comfort, she'd found. On the ground, up in a tree, in a bed...it didn't seem to make a lot of difference. Well - yes, it did, really. You were slightly less likely to wake up with ants in your shirt if you slept in a bed, and less likely to have to deal with scorpions if you slept in a tree. With her Sorceress' skills, she didn't have to worry about falling off a branch as she slept - her sense of balance was never off - so these days she was sleeping in trees. 

Not particularly because she wanted to. She had her parents' home, and the beds there. No, these days she was sleeping in trees because she didn't want anything to do with that Knight happening where she wouldn't find out about it. The townsfolk of Timber were beginning to understand she was an orphan; they never saw her parents any more, but _she_ occasionally still came to town, always alone. Granted that there were a few xenophobic families out here with similar habits, it was still cause for comment. The town's population wasn't large enough for people to be callous about their neighbors. She couldn't go to town and ask questions - no. The best she could do was find an out-of-the-way spot at an inn or tavern and use her Sorceress' hearing to sift through the conversations, a prospector looking for gold. 

She'd heard interesting rumors when she traded tales of Jian, and what he'd said about his master. One of which was very disturbing; some of the newcomers mistrusted the Lion because before he came here, he'd gone on a rampage where not a few people had died. Of course, there were different rules for Knights, just as there were for Sorceresses. Certain behaviors were...overlooked, given a sympathetic eye. Had he been an 'average man', the Lion would have been executed. As it was, he was simply exiled. At least, so said the rumors. 

Trying to match this image of a mad killer with Jian's glowing report left her more than a little confused. _Someone_ was getting things very very wrong here, that was certain. But nothing in either version gave her any hope of mercy from the man. So she was up in a tree, slightly breathless from a full-tilt run both to and from Timber. She had chosen a tree on the side of the compound closest to Timber, and only just close enough for her to make out the colors of the moving Squires within. 

It was almost with fear that she saw the Knight leave the compound, heading towards her. _Oh, shit,_ she thought. _How do I follow him without him sensing me?_

Indeed, the Knight was not even fifty feet from his gate when his eyes narrowed, and he started looking around him as though seeking something. Some_one_. 

_Hyne, this one is strong,_ Carolin thought - or rather, hoped. This was her first Knight - it was depressing to think _all_ of them could be so sensitive. What happened if the man had friends who came to visit? Immediately she dropped out of her perch and headed out at right angles to the Knight's probable route to Timber. She could parallel him if she could get far enough, fast enough. 

Thankfully, she could see and hear him from farther away than he could sense her. Eventually, frowning, he quit looking around and continued on his way. Warily, this time - he knew _someone_ was out here, he just didn't know exactly _where_. 

Carolin found herself breathing rapidly, in a way thrilled to be playing such a dangerous game. But really, after all - what could he do, if he found her? She was a Sorceress, and he a man alone. She could kill him with a thought. 

And set her feet on the road to madness. No, she couldn't use her powers like that. And he probably _could_ outfight her with conventional weapons. Hyne, half of _Timber_ could outfight her that way, even with her Sorceress' strength and speed. She shook her head, annoyed with herself, and got on with her tracking. 

When he reached town it was harder to keep him in sight, and harder to filter his words out from the various citizens around him, but she managed. What she heard gave her a case of the cold shivers; he was asking - politely - after the various women of Timber, and their families, and their neighbors. 

He knew there was a Sorceress around. It looked like he was trying to find her. The reactions of the townsfolk told her much; that he was respected, and a little feared, but not accepted or liked. Not yet. Timberi didn't accept you until you'd proven yourself to their satisfaction. Being a romantic wouldn't count for much with them - and that was how they saw Knights. They thought of them as men who gained their position through a woman's heart - and what else would you call such a one but a romantic? 

Carolin couldn't really argue with that viewpoint, since in large part she agreed. But there was magic in play...and magic changed _all_ the rules. 

She watched the man make his rounds, making himself known to the Timberi, and carefully tracked him until he returned to his compound. There would be no soft bed tonight; if he made any further unexpected moves she wanted to know about it. 

What she _still_ didn't know was what she planned to do about it. If he _was_ asking about women in order to find her, eventually he would. And then what? 

Sudden resolve hardened in her. He would not drive her away from Timber; she would not flee into the jungles and she would not stow away on a ship for Centra. This was _her_ home, and he had intruded on it. She would leave him alone as long as he left her alone - that was fair. But if he tried to force her to choose a knight, it would be a fight. Better to die free, than live a slave. If it drove her mad eventually...well, at least when they killed her there wouldn't be enough of what she now considered _her_ to care very much about it. 

She decided that she _would_ return to her bed tonight, after all. It would be far more effective for her to get news from Jian as to his master's movements, than for her to spend all her time in damned undignified positions getting it herself. 

* * * * * * *

The next day, Jian found himself the center of attention. Quinlan's gossipy nature had alerted all the Squires that Jian had found a pretty local girl, and everyone wanted to know about her. Since Jian was generally regarded as being slightly less capable of landing a girlfriend than Elric - who was so clumsy at everything he'd probably be in the Old Lion's service for the rest of his life - the fact that he was the _first_ Squire to encounter a friendly female face won him a degree of respect. 

He discouraged their attempts to get punishment duty by the simple expedient of not _quite_ hitting them with the flat of his blade. The cuts were thin, but hurt like hell - and of course the Squire would have to stitch up his colors. After a while they decided it was better to fight as best they could, and try for punishment duty with a different teacher. 

Lan was the only exception, as always. His weapon of choice was a double-bladed polearm, and he was unashamedly good with it. His hair was already gray, though he was only a teenager - a mark of the far eastern provinces. Jian loved sparring with him; he was incredibly serious about everything he did, and since his weapon was both weapon and defense, he could give Jian a good run for his victory. 

Today, distracted as Jian was by the unaccustomed popularity, he was a deadly opponent. He swung his polearm in swift circles, so that it seemed a brown blur edged in a shining light. Jian knew well that Lan could stop that spin with the polearm in any position, so he held his shield close to his body, guarding against attack. 

Spin stop - and one of the blades was scything for his knees. Jian jumped as quickly as he could, but couldn't strike back; the polearm's length stood between him and a good strike. Seeing his strike miss, Lan spun the weapon _up_ and _around_ and aimed it for Jian's stomach. This, Jian caught - hard - on his shield, and struck out with an attack of his own. Lan ducked _forward_ and in a swift and complicated move spun his polearm behind his back, striking with the flat of the blade hard against Jian's legs. Jian fell, but remembered to get his shield up in time to block the throat-strike that would have given Lan the match hands-down. 

Lan spoke then. "Surrender, Jian. You know I have you down." His voice was calm and flat, completely dispassionate. 

Jian sighed, and lowered his shield. "I give you the match, Lan," he said ruefully. "Don't know why the guys are all happy I found a girl, it's shot my fighting to hell." 

Lan backed off and set one blade of his weapon into the ground. "You shouldn't let your thoughts distract you like that," Lan said seriously. "You'd better hope the Old Lion wasn't watching you throw three years of training down the midden." 

Jian got up, dusted himself off, and squinted at the windows. "No way to tell," he said. "I'm sure he'll mention it to me if he did, but meantime I've already got a punishment duty to take care of." 

Lan nodded solemnly, his face expressionless. "Whoever she is, Jian, don't let her run your life. You'll never amount to anything if you can't control your thoughts." And without another word he yanked his weapon out of the ground and strode off to his next duty. 

Weird guy, Lan. Great fighter, damn good at everything he was asked to do, but he never smiled. Winning his respect in any field was worth the effort. Jian was the only fighter he would spar with, other than the Lion himself. Testing him would probably be a bear; there was no real way to tell which field was his best. Or worst, for that matter. But other people? Lan couldn't seem to care whether you existed or dropped off the face of the earth. Kyle and Tim, who were so in love with wagering they were the unofficial bookies of the Squires, were taking bets on whether Lan had taken Squire's training because his parents forced him to, or because he wanted to get ahead in business once he completed it. The longest odds were given on him actually becoming a Knight; heart of stone, eyes of glass. What woman would go for that, even with his star-pale looks? 

Jian gathered up the clothes that needed washing; not quite as much as yesterday, but it was more than balanced by the order to wash the sheets and blankets as well. Since he could not carry it all to the river himself without making two trips - making the possibility of losing one a lot higher - Jian decided to recruit Quinlan as an assistant. It wouldn't violate the terms of his punishment as long as Quinlan didn't actually do any washing. 

Jian tried not to smile at Quinlan's obvious ploy; his friend wanted to meet the pretty girl, and had taken pains to wear the best outfit he could that would not be damaged by the river. To contrast with his auburn hair, therefore, he wore an array of greens. Like Jian, he took his weapon and shield, and his chosen device was a striking snake, its green length knotted around his shield's border. His weapon was a spiked flail; a heavy steel ball, studded with spikes, attached to a length of chain on a metal handle wrapped in leather. He was waiting at the gates when Jian brought the second stack of baskets out, then he picked up his own and followed Jian through them. 

"Lead on, o crimson dragon," laughed Quinlan. "For the sight of a pretty face, I'll watch you do laundry for a fortnight." 

Jian smiled, and hoped the girl would come. He probably wasn't a big threat to a native girl alone, but two against one? Not too many girls would go for that. But if she didn't show, Quinlan would spread it all over and he would be branded a liar. 

Trying to keep his expectations clear, he resolutely set out for the spot on the riverbanks he'd agreed to go. 


	4. Education

[04]Education Carolin saw them before they saw her, of course. She _heard_ them quite some time before that; Jian's friend carried a fairly noisy weapon, with its chain clanking as he walked. Interesting device; a striking green snake whose length formed an intricate knot around the shield's edge, on a black background. She wished she knew whether it meant anything. 

She watched the newcomer carefully; when it was plain that he sensed her power no better than did Jian, she made tracks for the river. She must be seen to be harmless, after all. When they arrived, carrying their piled baskets of laundry, she was sunning herself on the high rock she'd been on when Jian first saw her. 

The look on the newcomer's face was gratifying; he was pleased to see her, and envious of Jian. Well and good; perhaps he would reveal more than Jian, or prod Jian to be more forthcoming with her. 

"Hello again, Jian," she said pleasantly. "Who's your friend?" 

But Jian didn't get the chance to answer; his friend set down his baskets and swept into a low and courtly bow - comical, out here in the woods - and said, "Quinlan of the Cobra, under Leonhart, at your service milady." 

_Ah. So the snake is a cobra._ "Carolin, at yours," she laughed. "Are all you Squires so formal, then?" 

"Of course, Lady Carolin," said Quinlan as Jian gathered soap-root to get his work done. "Especially when speaking to beautiful women." 

Carolin made herself the picture of casualness, rolling onto her stomach and curling her feet up over her. "Is it something you're _trained_ to do, then?" she asked. "Or something you _want_ to do?" 

"A bit of both, really," replied Quinlan, grinning at Jian. "The exact ratio is sort of individual." 

_What odd people Squires are_, Carolin thought. _Any of the town boys would've made some blatant suggestions by now. Quinlan is standing on the bank of the river in the middle of a jungle in his black and green outfit and behaving as though we're a lord and lady at some court, and Jian...is up to his knees in river water and washing sheets while wearing crimson and gold, and neither one sees anything odd about this..._

"So, what sort of world do you live in, then?" she asked, curious. "Do you guys ever get...time off? Casual days?" 

"The answer to both of those," said Jian distractedly, "would be 'no'. Back off a bit, would you Quin?" and he shot his friend a slightly annoyed look. Carolin noted it carefully; Quinlan immediately found a seat, and grinned ruefully as though caught doing something he shouldn't. 

"What do you mean?" she asked, for a variety of reasons. 

"I mean...you're a Squire until you're chosen, released, or quit," said Jian, still somewhat distracted as he concentrated on getting a stain out of dark sheets while _trying_ not to think about possible sources. "And if those don't happen, you don't get 'time off'. And as long as you're a Squire, you have to look the part. 'S'in the rules, somewhere." 

"Yep," said Quinlan, looking like a noble on holiday as he leaned up against a tree. "Somewhere near the beginning I think. I never did get them all memorized; have to ask Lan when we get back." 

"Chosen, released, or quit..." mused Carolin. "You can get fired? You can quit?" 

Both boys laughed at her puzzled tone. "Boy, you really _don't_ know, do you?" asked Quinlan. "We have to ask the Lion whether they send schoolteachers out this far. Everybody's supposed to know this stuff." 

Carolin blushed. "Um, I live pretty far out," she admitted, "and my parents went in for home schooling." 

Jian looked up at that, for a moment. It was the first time Carolin had mentioned any family, and she used the past tense. But he quickly got back to his work. "Chosen - if you're chosen by a Sorceress, you're not a Squire any more, you're a Knight. Released - you complete the Squire's training, but you're not chosen. Happens a lot. Quit - you leave the training of your own will before completing it. That happens a lot too." 

_Pretty high fail rate,_ noted Carolin. _But these guys don't look like anything special..._"Why would people quit?" 

"Some just decide it's not the life for them," said Jian, "some realize they have absolutely no talent," and here the two boys shared a look as though thinking of someone in particular, then Quinlan finished, "and some get a look at the downside and decide they don't want to handle it." 

_Time to play the card._ "Like...seeing your Knight run riot and kill people?" she asked innocently. 

Both boys lost their smiles and stared at her as though she'd just called the Empress a tyrant. Quickly she sat up, adjusting herself so she could get to her feet and run if she needed to. "Who told you that, Carolin?" said Jian flatly. 

"It was all over town when he visited yesterday," she said, trying not to sound defensive. "That he was exiled here because he killed people and they couldn't execute him because he's a Knight." She didn't like that look in Jian's eyes, like she'd suddenly turned into a maggot he'd found in an apple. She wished briefly that she hadn't said anything. 

"Don't believe everything you hear," said Quinlan, and turned to Jian. "I'm going to head back," he said. "The Lion needs to know this is being said about him. I'll be back around sunset to help you carry the stuff back." And without a look at Carolin he immediately set out, his flail spinning in his hand. 

Jian watched him go, and turned to Carolin. "I warned you about this," he said. "We don't like hearing such talk. I think he liked you before you said that." 

"I just repeated what the townsfolk say," she said, worried. "He'd have heard it sooner or later." 

Jian nodded. "But the one he heard it from was _you_." He got back to his work, but the extra ferocity with which he scrubbed showed his anger. "Just so you know - and you don't ask again - yes, he did kill people. The day the old Empress died. He didn't know what he was doing. We aren't exiles here. We came by choice." 

Carolin considered her wording carefully. Jian was just as angry with her as Quinlan had been, but he couldn't leave because he had work to do. That didn't preclude him drawing his sword and attacking her, though...and for some reason, she thought she liked him. "How do you...know he didn't know what he was doing?" she asked slowly. 

"Your ignorance is starting to get on my nerves," gritted Jian. "I told you. The old Empress _died_. Don't you know _anything_ about the Knights?" He took in her confused expression and growled. "I guess not. Look - this isn't a political appointment, all right? Nobody but a Sorceress makes a Knight. _Ever_. For any reason. It's not inheritable, it's not transferable, it's not earnable. Doesn't that tell you _anything_? She chooses her Knights because she _loves_ them. They accept because _they_ love _her_." 

The intensity in Jian's brown eyed gaze was hypnotizing, unsettling. But her mother hadn't said anything about this, and she needed to know. "But...people lose people they love all the time, they don't go killing people when it happens..." 

"That's because ordinary people aren't bonded," said Jian flatly. "The love of a Sorceress isn't like anything else in the world. Not all the Squires want it. It changes you. Permanently. And if she dies..." he shrugged, helpless to explain what little he knew. "Look, I don't have the love of a Sorceress so I don't know. All I know is, Leonhart reacted to the Empress' death the way you might react to finding out your family and entire home town had been torched by raiders. And he went a little nuts for a few hours, and some people got caught in the middle of it. I know Knights have killed themselves when their Sorceress dies - we get told that on the first day of the Squire's training." He bent low over his work, and even with her Sorceress' hearing Carolin almost missed his final words: 

"And I know that even now, the Lion wouldn't trade places with anyone." 

Jian spent the next few hours scrubbing in silence, as Carolin mulled this over, lying on her back on her sun-warmed rock and staring at the sky. The love of a Sorceress? It didn't sound like what her mother had described at all. Her mother had said she needed to choose many Knights so that none of them would control her...but if they loved her, didn't it seem more likely that they would do what _she_ wanted more than the other way around? She turned on her side, looking at Jian's angry features as he scrubbed yet another sheet. He loved his master, she knew, just as Quinlan did. She didn't think anything perverted was going on - they acted like he was their father, or their king. That kind of loyalty couldn't be bought, it had to be earned. 

She was surprised to realize that a part of her wanted Jian's loyalty for herself. She wanted him to look at _her_ the way he looked when he was describing the virtues of his master. 

And all loyalty has to be earned, so she started with, "I'm sorry, Jian. I didn't mean to insult your Knight. I'm from this little backwards town, remember? I didn't know." 

And was rewarded with his smile. 

* * * * * * * *

Quinlan was quite detailed as he made his report, and Leonhart nodded gravely. Of course the people of Timber couldn't be expected to know the full story, or understand it if they did. Timber was as far as you could get from the capital and still be within the Empire. There was only one school, and teaching probably went on a rota, and neither Squires nor Knights were ever seen. 

...And there _was_ a degree of justice to it. He didn't remember killing those people, didn't really remember anything of that day other than the tearing pain and loss of the bond breaking, and the overriding knowledge that he _had_ to get to the com tower to find out what had happened. It was only later, after the report sank in, that he had learned he had killed people to get there...people who had only been doing their job in asking for his name, or who had simply not gotten out of his way fast enough. Yes, if the Timberi condemned him for that they had reason. 

Quinlan was also more than willing to talk about the girl Jian had met. She did seem to be pretty enough to be a Sorceress...but Jian wasn't ready for that kind of power. He wasn't ready to be chosen. He thanked Quinlan for his promptness and sent him on his way, knowing the flashy gossip would now repeat his tale to all the Squires - who would be more than adequate to defending his honor from less-than-well-informed locals. 

Jian wasn't ready. He was a likable fellow, very open and honest, and that would probably catch this Carolin's eye. But if she was the Sorceress, her regard could overwhelm him. Of all the Squires, the only one Leonhart would trust in the presence of a Sorceress was Lan. The others were too easily swayed; they wouldn't be able to guard the Sorceress' spirit, because they would be too busy fawning over her every desire. Just like that boneheaded Knight that had gotten his Marie killed. It was considered acceptable for one or two Knights to be this way, because Sorceresses generally also chose at least a few men of strong enough will to perform the basic task that was their true function; to guard her spirit against the corruption of power. But out here...the first Knight this new Sorceress chose _had_ to be strong of will. She had lived here long enough to grow strong, without any teaching or guidance. It wouldn't be long before she started to fall; even with the best intentions, power would corrupt her eventually. 

Well...there was an option, though he didn't know how he would be able to do it. You could trap a Sorceress' power in an object, if you knew how. You had to get her to make something with her power, and then you broke a wizard stone on it. It would hold her power for as long as the stone's power lasted, and hopefully by that time the sorceress would be dead. But if he didn't kill her...perhaps it would last long enough to frighten her, convince her to come to the compound for training. 

A slight commotion outside drew his attention away from his musings. Jian and Quinlan were returning, and while Quinlan still looked a bit annoyed, Jian was smiling widely. The Old Lion's heart sank. He would have to find out whether Carolin was the Sorceress very quickly, before Jian fell too far. In the meantime, he couldn't afford to take the risk that she _wasn't_ - he would have to push Jian hard, do his best to fill in the gaps in the boy's knowledge. He watched the activity in the courtyard for a while, until he was sure Jian had had time to finish his tasks, then sent Elric to go and bring Jian to him. 

Jian arrived in a somewhat less than perfect state, his legs still wet from the river and his calves coated in mud from the riverbank. He was keenly aware of it, by the look on his face, so the Lion opted to ignore it. "Jian," he began, "Quinlan tells me you've become friends with a local girl?" 

Jian's black brows met in a look of puzzlement. "Yes, sir?" he said. _Why would the Lion care?_

Leonhart sat down in his old chair. "Sit, Jian, and tell me about her." His features were stern; this was not conversation, this was a report. Jian immediately sat down on the floor, indian style, and paid no attention to the mud beyond making sure none of it stained the floor. 

"She's about my age I think sir, with red hair and green eyes. She said her parents home schooled her and she's been raised around here. I think her parents are dead." 

That pale gaze was incredibly unnerving when the Lion wanted it to be, and so it was now. Jian felt like diamond tipped arrowheads were leveled at his throat. "You _think_ they are dead, Jian? I taught you better than this. What do you know of her?" 

Beginning to panic under the relentless gaze of his master, Jian had no defense other than honesty. "Um, that's all I can say for sure, sir," he said. He felt confused - he _knew_ they'd talked for hours, each time; how did he come away knowing so little? 

But the Lion nodded slowly, his eyes never releasing Jian's - as though he had the answer to a question. "Tell me, Jian," he said softly. "This girl - would you say she is pretty?" 

"Oh, _yes_, sir," said Jian immediately. "Very definitely." 

The Lion moved suddenly, bringing a heavy fist slamming down onto his desk as his features grew showed anger. "Listen to yourself, boy!" he snapped. "Can you not see the signs, after years of service?" 

Jian was amazed - the Lion _never_ showed signs of temper. The fact that he was doing so now was terrifying, to the point where what he was saying almost eluded him completely. He blinked rapidly, thinking faster than he'd ever done in his life. Pretty, yes she was beautiful...the conversations he couldn't quite remember...the fact he knew so little about her..._oh_. He gulped; no wonder his master was angry with him. "She...she's a _Sorceress_, sir?" he asked. 

The Old Lion calmed down immediately, the cat sheathing its claws as he resumed his seat, face impassive once more. He nodded. "Very good, Jian," he said. "There is a Sorceress in Timber. I know this for a fact. It seems that you are the one she found." He didn't sound happy about it, and Jian felt inexplicably ashamed. 

"Am...am I not worthy, sir?" he asked. 

Leonhart frowned. "Ask yourself that question, Jian. How long do you think it would have been before you understood her nature, if I had not forced you to consider it?" 

Jian hung his head. It was entirely possible that he would never have noticed; he had been taught about the natural thrall that Sorceresses exuded, that made the good ones natural rulers, and the bad ones powerful tyrants. He _should_ have noticed it right away, that he couldn't remember much about her, or what he did around her, except how pretty she was. He knew that if you didn't understand it right away, it could pull you in...and you'd never question anything she said or did... 

But he had, hadn't he? When she'd said the Lion had run wild? He dared to raise his head. "Sir...I am not her thrall yet," he said, with as much courage as he could muster. "I condemned her today." 

"For how long?" came the calm reply. 

"Until she apologized, sir," he said, and was finally rewarded with a slight lessening of tension in the room as the intensity of the Lion's gaze softened into one of searching. His master was looking for something in him; Jian could only hope it was there. 

At last the Lion nodded, slowly. "That is good," he said. "There is hope for you. Remember that it is never your role to rule her. You'll always have all you can do ruling yourself - but in ruling yourself, you protect her. It is good that you were able to resist her. Now I have something more difficult for you to do." 

"More difficult, sir?" asked Jian. It hadn't been too hard to resist the urge to talk to Carolin this afternoon; he'd been far too angry over her unfair accusation to want to talk to her. But the Lion nodded. 

"You will persuade her to use her power to make an object, Jian," he said. "Like Griever, here," and he held up the hand where he wore the platinum lion ring. "Do whatever you must to persuade her to make you something. Then bring it back to me. Tomorrow I will send Lan with you - he won't know about this task, but he'll pull you out of there if it looks like you are becoming her thrall." 

Jian gulped. For Lan to be the one to go with him - taking the two best fighting Squires out of the compound - the Lion must feel that this was a dangerous task. "Yes, sir," he said, hoping his voice stayed steady. 

"Dismissed," waved Leonhart, and Jian wasted no time in leaping to his feet and getting the hell out of there. When Elric poked his blond head into the room, curious, Leonhart told him to bring Lan. 

He spent the minutes frozen in place, concentrating so absolutely that any person entering the room might have mistaken him for a rather lifelike statue. At least for the half-second it took him to notice the movement. Lan stepped lightly into the room, his movements practiced and controlled. 

_Everything_ about Lan was controlled. Behind the Lion's stillness lurked passion hotter than any flame, passion which could be unleashed in love or war...only in war now...passion so great that it _must_ be contained or consume all around it, as it had done on that day of shame.... 

Behind Lan's control was ... nothingness. There was nothing in his regard; no curiosity, no intensity, no passion, no caring. He was reliable, and he was skilled, but he was not liked or loved. To throw caring at that stillness was to throw it away, into a black hole from which it could never be recovered. Of all the Squires, only Lan had chosen a featureless field for his emblem. A simple gray field, as his clothes were gray, as his hair was gray. The official name his emblem was given was Shadow - because the Knights could not imagine complete featurelessness as an insignia. Leonhart had long ago given up prying the details of Lan's past from him. He knew when uncaring was used as a mask, and when it was genuine. Lan's was genuine; there was no spirit in him. 

Which made him perfect for this task. What had no soul, could not be thralled. 

He indicated that the Squire should sit, and he did so quickly and efficiently, his double-bladed polearm resting across his knees. He said nothing. 

"Lan, there is a Sorceress in Timber," said Leonhart. "She appears to have chosen Jian." 

A flicker of...relief? 

"Jian is not ready to be chosen," he continued. "I am sending you with him when he performs his chores tomorrow. You will be excused from your usual duties to attend to this. You do not need to assist him; merely make sure he is not thralled." 

"Yes, sir," said Lan calmly. 

"Observe them. Learn as much as you can about this girl he speaks with, and report back to me." 

"Yes, sir," repeated Lan, and stood up as Leonhart waved his dismissal, leaving without another word. 

Leonhart leaned up against the wall, casting a brief, longing glance at the armaments hung there. One day, he might have to kill Lan. Such soullessness could not be tied to the Sorceresses. However, if that too-brief flicker of emotion was anything to go by, it seemed that Lan himself agreed with that sentiment. It was good to know that _something_ could elicit a response from him. 

* * * * * * * * *

The next day, the two boys headed for the stream. With the backlog taken care of, Jian had only two baskets'-worth of clothes to wash, so it was possible he might actually come out of his chores today with some time left over. Assuming, of course, that he could convince Carolin to make him something - and that she was the Sorceress his master knew was here. Lan strode easily at his side, his polearm in a ready position and occasionally used against the jungle growth to widen or smooth the path. He didn't speak, or look at his companion - for all anyone might be able to tell from looking at Lan, he was traveling alone. 

Jian, long used to his sparring partner's ways, didn't bother trying to engage him in conversation. He spent his time trying to decide what to ask Carolin to make. He wasn't upset that she was a Sorceress; he had always wanted to meet one. That was why he'd become a Squire - to meet these women who were the source of magic in the world. That a Sorceress would actually talk to _him_ was luck beyond his wildest dreams. 

He hoped she'd still talk to him after he revealed he knew what she was. Sorceresses could be funny that way. 

* * * * * * *

Carolin waited on her usual perch for Jian's approach, and noted that once again he'd brought someone with him. Not Quinlan, though. This one was so _blank_ as to be frightening. Gray clothes, gray hair, pale eyes - no shield, which was a first. But that impassive expression of determination made her skin crawl. When they saw her, Jian gave her a friendly wave - at least, as friendly as could be managed while carrying baskets - and the gray one gave her a stiff bow. 

"Lan of the Shadow, under Leonhart," he said flatly. He didn't offer her his service, she noted. Which was fine, because she certainly wouldn't offer him hers. He didn't set foot on the riverbank, instead standing rigidly at attention with his queer double-bladed polearm held at an angle before him. He watched her carefully. 

"Carolin," she said with a short nod. "Jian, are _all_ your friends going to be making an appearance?" 

"Lan's just here to guard my back," said Jian, sounding a little uncomfortable. "You could've told me, you know." 

A chill went up Carolin's spine. "Told you what?" she said carefully. 

"Carolin," he said, "I'm a Squire. Lan here is a Squire. We serve a Knight - we make reports of our activities to him, we obey his wishes to the best of our ability. I nearly got thumped when I told him I'd met you." 

Carolin tried to calm her breathing, taking care not to make any overt moves with that gray Squire staring at her. _He knew._ They both did. There was no safety in being here, but she didn't trust that gray Squire not to throw his polearm at her if she tried to flee. He looked far too capable. She swallowed. "Wh-why?" she quavered, ashamed that her nervousness showed in her voice. 

Jian smiled reassuringly. "You know why, milady," he said. "It's okay, you know. We're not going to hurt you." 

"_You_ might not," she retorted, and then realized she had said more than she meant. Lan's colorless eyes narrowed, his grip on his weapon tightening. 

Jian looked at his companion. "He won't hurt you either," he said. "So long as you don't hurt either one of us. You should have told us right off the bat what you were," he said sadly. "It would've gone better." 

"Better for who?" she demanded, suddenly angry with the anger born of panic. "Better for you? So your master could force me to choose a husband - or two or three? I _like_ my freedom, Jian, and I intend to keep it. I thought for a minute I might have made a friend, but I can see that that's not what you're interested in. You tell your master to _go to hell_, Jian - and if he comes near me there'll be one less Knight in the world!" 

Lan moved incredibly quickly, and in a panic Carolin did the only thing she could think of - she cast Sleep on the pair of them before he could reach her. The power came at her call, stronger than she remembered it, and the two boys toppled where they were - falling into the river. 

Safe, at least for the moment, Carolin got a grip on herself. The boys would drown if she left them here, and if they died it would be war with the Knight and his surviving Squires. Quickly she picked them both up out of the water and laid them face-up on the riverbank. She left Lan's weapon in the water - she had no desire to see that one coming after her again, and hoped the river would carry it away. Assured that they would live, she climbed up a tree and used the 'squirrel's road' to make all haste away from the river, grateful that they didn't know where she lived yet. She'd have time to get her favorite things out of her parents' house before the Knight came calling. 

* * * * * * *

When the two boys roused, the angle of the sun told them several hours had passed. The clothes were still there, nothing had been taken. It was a miracle they hadn't been ravaged by monsters. 

"What the hell did you attack her for, Lan?" demanded Jian. "She was just scared." 

"She is a _Sorceress_, Jian," said Lan calmly. "When a Sorceress gets scared, people get hurt. And she wasn't just scared. I did as I was ordered to do." 

"You were ordered to attack her?" Jian asked incredulously. "Why?" 

"I wasn't ordered to attack her, I was ordered to protect you. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to have a Sorceress' anger directed at you? I made her focus on me, instead. Now, come on. Get your washing done. I'll have to find out what she did with my blade-bo." 

He did so, and hid a smile when Lan couldn't find his favorite weapon. Served him right for doing something so stupid. 

He didn't relish telling the Lion what had happened when they got home, though. This was one order he had managed to completely fail to obey. 


	5. Growth

[05]Growth

_What can be done? You won't believe._

_Listen and you may see;_

_Everyone's dream is deep within._

_Find it and you'll be free._

_"What am I doing here? What am I doing here?"_

--The Moody Blues, "What am I doing here?"

The Old Lion seemed to expect that the news would be bad. 

Truly, it didn't take much in the way of observational powers to come to that conclusion. Both boys showed signs of a dunking, Lan didn't have his weapon, and they'd been gone most of the day when the task at hand shouldn't have taken more than a few hours. 

Still, there was the official Making Of The Report, and Jian was shivering with more than the effects of his dunking when he and Lan entered the Old Lion's office. He was leaning in the windowsill, watching the sunset, but turned to face them when they entered. 

"You failed, didn't you," he said flatly. "Come on then, tell me how badly." 

"S-sir," stammered Jian, "she acted frightened as soon as she realized we knew what she was. Then Lan tried to attack her, and she used magic on us." He still couldn't keep the anger out of his voice over that move. Who would have guessed Lan to be so _stupid_? 

Leonhart's steely gaze landed on Lan then, but if it had an effect it wasn't noticeable. "She was afraid, sir," said Lan. "She looked ready to attack either one of us. I made sure she focused on me, instead." 

"Not very well," said Leonhart, "since she used her magic on both of you by the looks of it. Lan, I will deal with you separately. Hold yourself in readiness at your quarters until Elric comes for you." 

Lan said, "Sir," bowed and left. For all anyone would be able to tell from looking at him, he'd just been told to go change clothes or some other logical order. Leonhart left his perch at the window and took a seat at his desk, and just for a moment Jian thought he looked very, very old, and very tired. Then he took a deep breath, and the moment passed. He laced his fingers together on the desktop, and gave Jian a long, level look. 

"All right," he said. "Tell me." 

"Sir, she was frightened of Lan," said Jian. "She acted nervous as soon as she saw him, kept away from him the whole time. And I can't blame her, really. He's good in a fight but there's just something _creepy_ about him. She was even more frightened when she realized we knew she was a Sorceress, sir - I couldn't convince her that we wouldn't hurt her. She seems to think that we'll force her to take a husband, sir...or lots of husbands. She thinks you ordered us to be nice to her." He grimaced. "She said to tell you she intends to keep her freedom, and to - to go to hell, sir." 

Leonhart observed his Squire closely. He was nervous, as he should be to repeat such a statement in front of his Knight, but there was something in his voice..."You agree with her, don't you Jian," he said, a statement and not a question. "You would prefer her to be free, and you do not agree with my choices." 

Jian swallowed. No help for it now; he was a lousy liar and the Lion knew it. "Yes, sir," he said carefully. "She seems to be doing all right on her own...and Lan was a _really_ bad choice to put in front of her. He gives half the other _Squires_ the chills, sir, and we've had years to get used to him." 

Leonhart's expression was unreadable, but it was clear he was thinking something over. "You are confined to the compound, Jian," he said at last. "Lan will take over the washing duty. If you think yourself able to question a Knight's decisions, then you must prove yourself able of becoming a Knight. I will expect you to be training every hour of daylight, and that includes mealtimes. You will eat before dawn and after sunset only. And you will be beaten for every failure. Dismissed." 

Jian's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. He was tempted to ask just what it was he'd done to merit such a harsh punishment, but one cold look from his master's eyes told him that opening his mouth would be an _incredibly_ unwise move just now. Hastily he bowed and fled the room; there was at least an hour of light left. 

Leonhart moved back to his window seat; anyone watching would have sworn he was closer to seventy years of age, rather than his true forty-odd. _I am sorry, Jian,_ he thought silently. _I must take your faith in me and break it, in any way I can. You care for this Sorceress enough to question me, and that's all I have. I can only hope that by separating you from the rest, she will realize it is safe for her to care for you as well, no matter what she's been told. She could have killed you both; if she was as afraid as you both claim, she should have. She didn't. It's a thin enough hope to pin your life on, Jian...but it's all I have. I'm sorry._

* * * * * * * *

Carolin raced through her family's home, scanning as quickly as she could for anything to take with her. Her bow and quiver, yes. Her spear, yes. A whetstone, a hunting knife, flint and tinder... 

Her head was pounding with pain, so much so that occasionally she stumbled. Each time she used her Sorceress' magic, the power grew and became harder to control. Never had she used it against a living creature before today, and the difference was palpable. Her magic was almost like a living thing, scrabbling at the cage in her mind where she kept it, clawing at the walls that penned it, seeking a way out. Even now it whispered that she didn't need her hunting gear, didn't need the flint and tinder - she had lightning bolts and fireballs at her fingertips if she only reached out with her thoughts. It took all her willpower to resist the urge to let her power loose; it was making coherent and rational thought much more difficult to come by. 

What else to take? The miniatures, yes. Small enough to go with her. She grabbed them off her windowsills; tiny metal miniatures of local monsters, done in perfect detail. A teaching tool for children, they were meant to be. They were perfect enough to be works of art. She wouldn't need blankets. Her power took care of such details whether she wanted it to or not. That seemed to be everything - time to make tracks. There was no telling how cold the trail would have to be before a Sorceress' Knight could no longer follow it. 

Only when she was a long way away from the only home she could remember having, did it occur to her to wonder where she would go, what she would do. Living alone had little appeal; she liked hearing other people's voices, being at least peripherally involved in their lives. _Damn you, Jian. Why did you have to betray me?_ Life would be so much harder now, without being able to head into Timber for the things she couldn't make on her own. 

Oh, who was she kidding? The headaches she got from holding back her power were literally blinding now - tinting her vision with black and red spots. She had no intention of dying out here - assuming she _could_ die. The magic needed to be released, in one way or another. _Damn you, Jian. Damn you straight to hell._ She stumbled as she ran, clutching her head as she fell to the earth. She had gone as far and as fast as she could. Was it far enough? Fast enough? 

No. _Anyone_ can track along a straight line. She needed to release her magic, but not in any way that could be traced. That left out most of the offensive magic. On the grounds that it might help her get farther away, with less of a trail, she cast Float. Immediately she felt the power negate her weight, so that only the tips of her toes touched the ground. The spell took effect with great power; it would be hours before it faded, and in the meantime it seemed to have helped the headache some. 

Rebalancing herself, she ran on - changing directions randomly, but never ever heading back the way she came. 

By the time the spell wore off and her headaches were back at full strength, she was satisfied that she had gotten far enough away. Now there was just the headache to deal with. 

Well...using her power eased the pain. How much could she do with it at once? Focusing as well as she could, she concentrated on the result she wished to achieve and threw out her hand, pouring power into the earth. 

A spear of crystal jutted out from the ground, curving, shaping...a miniature castle - the details were right, but the size was that of a one-person cottage. _Clear crystal? I don't think so._ She glared at it until the crystals darkened to black. It now looked like a miniature castle dipped in glass. And it would be private. 

What it _wasn't_ was comfortable. But she knew the headaches would return. When they did, she would have any number of 'projects' to kill them off again. 

She couldn't bring herself to care anymore whether the power would drive her mad. It seemed bent on doing so anyway, by one means or another. If she became the tyrant of the local monster population, it was better than curling up in a ball and waiting for her head to explode. Creating the house had completely drained her power - exhausted, she laid down on the smooth black crystal floor, making sure the door was barred, and let sleep claim her. 

* * * * * * * * *

Jian soon learned just how far he was from being his master's equal. He no longer trained with the other Squires; Leonhart delegated the best Squire in each area to continue the training of the others, while he personally took Jian's training in hand. 

It would have been flattering if it weren't so exhausting. And there was no mercy, no mercy at all, in the Old Lion's eyes or voice. If Jian stumbled in combat practice, every slip was taken advantage of - by the end of the day, his body was covered in little nicks and cuts, which would have been lethal wounds in real combat. Whenever he wasn't training with the sword, he was learning about the local monsters and about various forms of government. And when _those_ topics were exhausted, he was taught about magic and Sorceresses. The Lion seemed indefatigable, and he was never slow to reward an incorrect answer with the _thwack_ of a switch. For completely wrong answers, the switching would take place over the cuts of the earlier combat practice. 

Just once, after a particularly unfruitful session, Jian dared to ask what it was that he'd done wrong; his belief in his master's fairness was implicit in the question. For 'daring to question' he was whipped raw. Jian was left wondering if his master had gone mad. Nothing he did was good enough; his confidence in his own ability was shattered. And always there was a cut or a switching ready to greet any failure. 

For a few weeks he stuck it out, hoping that whatever had triggered the tide of anger would pass - or that at least he would be told what it was he had done wrong. Yes, he'd failed to get the Sorceress to make him an item, but this punishment seemed to far outweigh the crime - especially since Lan, his partner in failure, was only given laundry duty. It made no sense. 

He set himself a test, one night. He called Lan over, and asked if he would spar with him after sunset. Lan agreed. 

The moon was full and bright that night, negating any need for torches in the courtyard - a good thing, because Jian had no idea what the Lion would think of this if he saw it. Lan had gotten himself another blade-bo, and was spinning it around in a steely blur. Jian's crimson dragon shield was much battered from recent practice, but it was still in good enough shape to serve. 

Blade stop - scything for the knees. Jian caught it on his shield and struck at Lan's stomach, forcing him back. Lan's eyebrows went up, and the bo went into its spin. Jian didn't wait for it to stop but went for a high cut at Lan's shoulder that his partner was only just able to block. 

No more spinning; Lan whirled his blade at Jian's stomach but the dragon shield caught it squarely - and Jian's sword promptly cut the bo in two. Lan backed off immediately and bowed. 

"You've gone beyond me," Lan said solemnly. "If I defeat you now it is by luck." And without another word he picked up the pieces of his broken weapon and returned to the barracks. 

Jian stood stunned. The fight, from his view, had been easy. Lan was the _best_ fighter in the Squires - they'd always been equal before. But after a few weeks of training under the Lion, he'd beaten Lan effortlessly. Yet he still _lost_ every time he faced off against the Lion. In general, he lost _badly_. 

What of the other aspects of his training? Was he better than Quinlan with the rules of high society? Did he know more of government than Twyl? More of magic than Elric? In all subjects he still had not satisfied the Lion...but how did he measure up against the other Squires? 

Over the next few nights he tested those questions, and found that he had indeed passed all the others by - though the thorough beatings he got during the day kept him from feeling much pride in the fact. 

Ordinarily, a Squire studied for about ten years. Jian was only in his third year. But he was better now than specialists who had reached sixth-year training. The Lion was accelerating his training? Or was he trying to force Jian to quit? 

And...what of Carolin? The more he learned of Sorceresses (and he was being taught a great deal more than he'd ever thought there could be to know) the more he realized that Carolin was probably in trouble. A Sorceress alone was safe only if she never used her power - with every use it grew, until she must incorporate it into her life or die from repressing it. Sorceresses were wellsprings of magic; a spring could only remain corked for so long once it started to flow. Too long, and the pressure would cause an explosion - in practical terms, the force required to hold the power _back_ would kill her. 

Screw 'no first use'. She'd cast Sleep on Lan and himself. If it was her very first use, she might be okay...but if it wasn't... 

He didn't like thinking about that. It was his own fault she'd been scared enough to use her magic. But he was _here_, and she was...wherever she was...possibly in pain because he'd played the fool, possibly going mad. 

One night that possibility just wouldn't let go; he lay on his uncomfortable bunk in the Squires' dormitory, looking at his much-nicked sword and battered shield hung over his bed. The golden dragon had seen better days, that was certain, but he was so tired after his training he hadn't had the energy to beat the dents out in weeks. It was still beautiful in its crumpled way, the countenance of the dragon pure and full of spirit. It was worlds away from what Jian felt now; the sheer pressure of his training beginning to take its toll on his spirit. He wasn't even able to see the other Squires any more, except here in the dorm...and he was too tired to talk most of the time. 

He was vaguely aware the others were starting to worry about him. A few times, a dessert had been left on his bunk by whichever Squire was in charge of cooking that day, and once he'd come back from a few hours of lessons to find his sword sharpened and his shield repaired. The Lion had assumed he'd found 'time' somewhere, and that afternoon's practice had been particularly rough. 

Tonight he looked at his golden dragon and realized he just didn't care any more. To hell with the whole Squire business. Where was he going to use it out here? What monster was impressed by a colorful picture on a shield? Someone who might be his friend was out there, somewhere, if he could find her and explain. 

But he wasn't going to sneak out like some thief. He wouldn't bother worrying about the civics courses - but by the dragon he _would_ pay the Lion back for the scratches. The Lion's claws are no match for the Dragon's fangs, and it's about time _somebody_ learned that. 

* * * * * * * * * * *

The next day Jian felt unusually calm, as though something had changed. Maybe it had. He answered questions in a half-conscious haze, and if he was beaten for an incorrect answer he didn't notice it. His skin had toughened amazingly over the past few weeks. 

Back in the practice ring. Time to end this farce, one way or another. He raised his sword tip from the ground and held it so that the crosspiece was just under his eyes. 

"I am Jian of the Dragon, and I challenge you," he said, sweeping his sword out to one side and then drawing it in, to hold in a   
ready stance. Offering challenge; his master was not required to spare his life if he lost. Right now, Jian really didn't care. 

Leonhart's gaze did not soften, but he nodded once, quickly. "I am Leonhart of the Sorceress Marie, and I accept the challenge," he said in response, raising his sword to the ready. Cautious. 

The two circled each other within the ring for a while, testing defenses. Everything Jian had learned over the past few weeks flowed through his mind and hands, without ever once involving his brain. He was operating purely on instinct, his usual high spirits gone. The dragon waiting for prey. 

Leonhart came in with a powerful high-line attack that could have beaten Jian into the ground; the golden dragon took another pounding, hard enough to numb his left arm. His own sword struck out, aiming not for the silver lion shield but the arm that held it. A miss but it threw the Lion off his balance. Jian followed with a series of mid-level thrusts, to keep him that way. 

No luck; the Lion had his namesake's grace and sense of balance. He twisted out of the pattern and sent his sword diving for Jian's unprotected back. Jian escaped only by throwing himself to the ground - but he aimed for the Lion's legs. He wasn't going to play by the traditional rules any longer; if his master could kill him, he could return the favor. In this he succeeded; the two of them tumbled to the ground. Because Jian had been expecting it, he recovered first - and put his sword to his master's throat. 

Glaring, panting, his bright crimson and gold covered in dust...he'd won. He hadn't strictly been playing by the rules, but he'd won and he wasn't going to take any more. He did not remove his sword point until Leonhart said, "I concede the match." 

Jian jumped lightly off of him and bowed. And without a word left the compound; he had what he wanted, and having gained it wanted nothing more than to never see this place again. He had a friend to find, and apologies to offer, and whatever help he could give. He didn't notice the silence that trailed in his wake. 

* * * * * * *

Leonhart got up and brushed himself off, and picked up his arms where they'd fallen. The Squires were careful not to look him in the eye as he returned to the great house; their leader had been beaten. 

The Old Lion didn't quite see it that way. He'd seen the look in Jian's face on Squires before - the look that says they've hit a wall, and don't care what it costs to get past it so long as they do. He would have had to kill Jian to put him down. 

That wasn't what Knights were supposed to do. No...when a Squire reached that point it was time for them to win. The making of a Knight was a lifelong process, not a school with a set graduation date - no matter what the boys were made to think. Other Knights knew there was no better swordsman than Leonhart, and knew too that any Squire under him would never defeat him. He wasn't the only specialist around; one of the best-kept secrets of the Knights was when, how, and why to throw a match, in arms or in any other field. 

No, what made him feel old was the sheer venom in his favorite Squire's eyes when he had his master down. He had had to break Jian's faith in him, to make him think on his own, make him want to leave to seek out the Sorceress. He knew that. At least he wouldn't have to beat the poor boy any longer. He was as ready as he would ever be; now he just had to hope he was ready _enough_. 

Unusual circumstances require unusual tactics; there hadn't been a rogue Sorceress in several decades, and the last one had been born in Centra proper and quickly found. A teenaged one, out here, untrained in any way...it was hard to imagine a more unusual circumstance. 

Leonhart tried to tell himself the situation was unusual and treacherous enough to justify manipulating his favorite student in the way he had, but couldn't shake the idea that Marie would have had a better alternative. He looked down at the ring he'd named Griever. It wasn't so much a name for the ring as a name for himself, but he'd already changed names once in his lifetime. Better that his name recall the joy of the day his Sorceress had honored him, than the loss of her death. The lion on the ring was proud and fierce, fearless in a pose of roaring attack. So she had told him he looked when he had done what any Knight would have done with his Sorceress in danger. Leonhart had succeeded where others would have failed, but that had nothing to do with courage - only training and skill with the blade. 

"What would you have done, Marie?" he asked the ring. "Was I too harsh? When he finds her, will it be enough?" 

Reassurance. Perhaps she could hear him, wherever her spirit had gone. It was oddly comforting. He turned the ring around his finger with his thumb, pretending - just for a moment - that Marie was with him, his beautiful Sorceress. But eventually he had to open his eyes again, and come back to the reality that she could not be with him. He opened the door to his office and addressed a nervous Elric. "Go and find Dorin and send him to me," he said, and watched the boy scamper off. 

Dorin was the best tracker of the Squires; he'd been a thief before sent to a Knight for discipline. He would be able to find Jian, and if the Sorceress made an object he'd be able to take it and bring it back to Leonhart. 

Jian might become this girl's Knight, but that didn't necessarily mean everyone else was out of danger. Leonhart had survived situations that had claimed others of his brotherhood by always, always having other options. 

* * * * * * *

Carolin's little castle was mostly furnished by now, though she couldn't believe she'd ever find a use for the things she'd made. A full four-poster bed had kept the pain away for a week, the blanket and sheets had won her a few days...pieces of furniture created with the purity of her power, the absence of pain purchased with the absence of thought. 

That was the problem. She had only a small space between the power's use and the onset of the headaches, and more and more often what filled that space was...fuzziness. Not-thinking. A tendency to be fascinated by the play of light on a dandelion's myriad tiny petals, idly tracing the veins in a leaf, watching a trail of ants wind their way from their nest to a tiny trickle of sap. The white-mist aftermath of her power's use filled her brain with fog, growing thicker all the time. 

She wasn't bored. There wasn't enough thought to be tired of thinking. She had no concept of the passage of time; her awareness faded in and out, and she didn't know where she would have to be to mind. If she was going mad, it seemed a pleasant enough way to go.   
  
Except for killing. Whenever she used her power to kill - a squirrel, a rabbit, perhaps a pheasant - the fog cleared for a while. The first time she used her power on a live creature to kill, she'd thundaga'd a rabbit into a small red smear of fur, and in the clarity of the aftermath had cried all afternoon...until the headaches returned and she began to cry from pain. She had not used any of her offensive spells at full power since. Just...enough. Enough to kill. She mentally set a radius from her little house. If something moved within it, it was fair game and she'd make what use of its body she could. If it were outside the radius, no matter how dangerous it was she left it alone. 

Amazing, the way the animals and monsters learned where the boundary was. Must be the really dramatic way a thunder spell fries its target - you can see the light for a long way in any direction, even through trees. 

Or maybe they just didn't want to get within a hundred feet of a Sorceress. Maybe monsters were more sensitive than people, and could feel what she was and fear it. What a way to go...alone in the middle of teeming life, an object of power so fearsome even the ancient anacondaurs refused to slither into her field of vision, and unable to care while pretty fleecy clouds floated past. 

That was where she was right now...lying on her back in an open space outside her little house...watching fleecy white clouds puff by overhead, in her head, shapes melding and flowing into one another, endlessly fascinating. Her Sorceress' hearing picked up a crashing noise, but it was outside her boundaries so she didn't worry about it. If it was trouble, it would come inside her boundaries and she would fry it. If it wasn't trouble it would leave her alone. She didn't really care one way or the other, beyond idly guessing at the creature's size. If it was very small she would use blizzard so as not to obliterate it; rabbits were small and she liked their fur. If very large, she could electrocute it with thunder spells. And in the middle, she'd use fire so as to have her dinner pre-cooked. 

She didn't really _think_ about any of it. She hadn't really thought anything out in...well, a while. Time was one of the things she hadn't thought about. She didn't even need to engage her mind to attack; clarity came _after_ a fight, not before. Hard to miss when something is literally within arms' reach. 

_It crossed the boundary._ She could sense that, even though she didn't see it in the trees. Vaguely annoyed to have her daydreaming interrupted, she threw a thunder spell at it. She wasn't feeling very hungry. 

In the clarity of mind that followed her use of a combat spell, the very human scream echoed painfully. She'd used that on a _person?_ Had she been found? Or was this one of the Timberi jungle hunters, or one of the tribesmen? 

If she was quick she could heal them, if they were someone who shouldn't have been hurt anyway. She ran to the source of the scream, and found a boy, or a young man, who had definitely seen better days even before her blast had hit him. She remembered him through the fog...crimson and gold, and long black hair in a straight braid down his back. 

Turning him to face up, she saw her aim had been perfect - the crimson silk was charred black in a circle around his chest. Her hearing told her he had been alone...she called on her curing magic to undo the damage she had caused. He looked like he'd been given a guided tour of Hell before she'd zapped him, which was the only reason she was inclined to revive him. Logically, anyway. 

She was, in a way, illogically, glad to see him now that he had none of his friends with him. Which was why the only thought running through her thoroughly cleared mind was _Great Hyne I shot Jian._

Save poetry for an evening on the beach; when you're really up the creek short and simple makes the point. 


	6. Sacrifice

_And if I've built this fortress around your heart_

_Encircled you in trenches and in barbed wire_

_Then let me build a bridge_

_For I cannot fill the chasm_

_And let me set the battlements on fire..._

-- Sting --

Jian woke to the sensation of softness, followed shortly thereafter by one of extreme pain.

His lungs felt like they were on fire. Reflexively, he raised his hand to his chest, noting that the fine hairs were standing on end. There was a huge hole in his crimson-and-gold silk tunic, burned black around the edges, and the skin beneath was new and pink.

So she _had_ shot him, after all. It hadn't been a dream. She'd cast thunder on him, where before she'd used sleep. Not a good sign, for more than the obvious reasons. For her to strike out with offensive magic so indiscriminately, she must be far down the spiral towards insanity.

On the other hand, he wasn't lying on the ground - too soft for that, and the ceiling was glassy and black - and she'd healed him of the damage she'd caused. So presumably she wanted him alive for _something_ - or at least, didn't want him dead. He hoped the latter. He hoped that some of her earlier kindness still remained...but it had been many weeks since he'd seen her last, and their parting had not been on the best of terms. She _could_ just want to interrogate him.

He took breaths as deep as he could around the burning tingling pain in his chest, and closed his eyes. He was nothing now. Not a Squire, not a threat...just bone tired of things going wrong. All he knew was that he would not hurt Carolin. Leonhart evidently wanted her captured - he'd been taught what objects made by Sorceresses could do. Well then - if the Lion wanted her caught, then Jian would keep her free. The only reason Jian could think of for his former master's behavior was that his grief for the loss of Marie was affecting his judgement. It had never happened before - but then, 'before' had never been dealing with another Sorceress.

The only problem was...well, everything. He was lying in a magnificent, soft, four-poster bed. In a house apparently made of black crystal. On covers of satin and silk. And that was just what he could see and feel without moving.

All of it made by a sorceress' magic. All of it made by _Carolin's _magic. All Leonhart had to do was get his hands on a single feather from a pillow or mattress, a thread from one of the sheets, a splinter from the bed, a sliver of the house's floor or ceiling. Any one of those things, and he could destroy Carolin. Completely, utterly. Even her power would be undone, not needing even to pass it on to another girl to die. Jian squeezed his eyes shut against the image. He was lying _in_ a Sorceress' Token, and _on_ a great many more Tokens. Carolin was a walking corpse, if Leonhart found this place.

For the thing about Sorceress' Tokens, was that they could not be unmade by a Sorceress. That was something reserved for Knights, part of the balance of power - creative and destructive. And Carolin had no Knight to unlock that part of her gift. He didn't delude himself into thinking he could frighten her into taking one. Not after the incident at the stream. He had no idea whether he'd even be able to convince her of the danger she was in. He just knew he had to try. She shouldn't be punished for something she couldn't help.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as could be managed with the pain in his chest, he tried to sit up. As he had dreaded, the pain was great enough to fill his vision with spots - but he had to move. _Had_ to. There was no telling how long he'd been out already, no telling if he'd been followed here. No telling if, even now, Carolin was at risk of losing her freedom and her life. Forcing himself to consider the urgency, he lunged for one of the canopy poles and gripped it with all his remaining strength until his vision cleared.

Then he used it to lever himself unsteadily to his feet. Oh, he was some dragon now, his bright shirt char and his legs so wobbly they barely supported his weight. He waited until he could more or less stand unaided, then - slowly, carefully - he made his way through the house.

Each room caused his heart to sink a little further. Carolin had been busy - there were beautiful things in every room, even if some were still only sparsely furnished. And any one thing could be her death. He had to stop her - had to.

As he passed a window he heard wordless singing. It didn't appear to be a recognized tune, just stream-of-consciousness singing. It could only be Carolin, though he'd never thought of her as the type to sing. She had always seemed far too lively. How much had she changed?

He followed the singing, using any handy object that he could to support his weight as far as possible.

His pain had not made him want to cry, but his first sight of Carolin almost did. He clutched fiercely at the doorframe of the little castle's entrance, trying to hold himself upright.

She was lying on a well-manicured and probably magically tended lawn (here where the natural terrain was jungle) some twenty feet from the door to her black crystal 'castle'. Her arms were behind her head, pillowing it, and she was singing to herself as she watched the clouds overhead.

She wasn't in her 'jungle hunter' clothing any more. Now she wore a gown of green silk, with slippers to match, and jewelry in her unbound red hair. She was more beautifully clothed than the Empress herself, here on the farthest borders of the Empire where none but monsters dwelled.

All of it done by magic. Jian could have wept, could have sworn, could have cursed heaven and hell. He was too late; she was lost.

In the perfection of his despair, Jian decided it was a fine way to go. He had fought the Lion for this, fought the master that until only recently he had loved like a father and even now could not truly hate. Jian couldn't bring Carolin back to herself now without running the risk of joining her.

Well then. It was an acceptable risk, if he were allowed to take it.

_It is never your goal to rule her. You'll always have all you can do in ruling yourself - but in ruling yourself, you protect her._ That was what Jian remembered the Lion to have said.

He steeled himself, and tried to walk towards her. Past the door there were no handholds or supports, and his legs felt like jelly, but he managed to reach her before his legs gave out and he landed ungracefully on the grass. At the sound, Carolin finally turned her head to look at him.

Her eyes seemed to be focussing on some point about four feet behind the back of his head. "Hello, Jian," she said softly.

One thing at a time. "Hello, Carolin," he replied, trying to get his breath back. The few feet from the doorframe had _hurt_. "It's good to see you again."

"Is it?" she asked, but not as if she cared one way or another about the answer. "Why did you follow me here?"

Would she understand his answer? "To save you, if I can," he replied, keeping his voice gentle and calm. She was so _different_ from his last encounter with her. Then, she had been quick and full of life. Now...it was like she was in a dream world, half-talking to herself.

"I'm fine," she said. "I don't need saving." And she turned her head to look at the sky again, ignoring him.

Was there any part of her that was as she had been? "I can help you, if you'll let me," he said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice.

She turned her head to look at him again, green eyes paler than they had been - almost yellow. "So you can force me to take a Knight? No, thank you, Jian. Better to die free than live a slave. You should go now."

"And if I don't? Will you kill me then?"

"Yes," said Carolin simply.

Jian blew out a long breath and fell back on the grass. Hyne, it felt good to get horizontal again. "You're gonna have to kill me then," he said lightly, " 'cause I used up all my energy just getting this far."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Carolin's face. "Idiot," she said. Then, "Why do I like you?"

Jian tried to laugh, but it hurt around the pain in his ribs. "Because I'm completely and utterly harmless?" he ventured hopefully.

Carolin frowned like a drunk trying to concentrate. "Are you?" she asked. "Harmless, I mean."

"Oh, yeah," said Jian, grinning in spite of himself. "Trust me, Carolin. You've got more to fear from a rabbit than you do from me."

"That's just because you're not feeling well, though," said Carolin. "Isn't it? Why can't I think right?"

_Never lie to your Sorceress. The bond can function without love, but it can never function without trust._ "It's your magic," said Jian carefully. "It...sort of overloads you, if you let it."

"Hmmmmm....." said Carolin, closing her eyes. "I suppose you know what to do about it, mister knight in training."

"I'm not a Squire any more, Carolin." It still hurt a bit to admit it, even though he'd needed to do it.

"No?" This got a response from her. She rolled onto her side so she could look at him as she spoke again. "Why?"

"Because...the Lion wants to capture you, and I can't let him."

Fear got through her mental fog, it seemed. "Capture me?" she repeated. "I'll kill him first." 

Jian tried not to shiver at the matter-of-fact way she said that. "I don't know that you can, Carolin," he said. "You've made yourself very weak." He threw an arm over his head from his position on the grass, pointing back at the house. "See that? All he needs is a tiny piece of that house or anything in it, or anything you're wearing, and he can kill you."

"You're lying," said Carolin slowly, still sounding a little drunk. "Can't be that easy."

"There's a reason the Lion treasures his ring, Carolin," Jian replied quickly. "Griever is practically unique in the world - or it was, before you built that house. Sorceresses make themselves vulnerable with every object they create. Each made thing has a piece of Sorceress' power in it, holding it together, keeping it in existence. A Sorceress can't undo that magic unless she has taken a Knight to balance her power. He's counting on that in your case, Carolin. You've made a thousand things and all he has to do to kill you is get his hands on one of them. The right actions taken with it will seal your power away forever - and kill you in the process."

Carolin simply stared at him for a while, yellow-green eyes unfocused. "Then he kills me," she said, as though solving an equation - as though it didn't matter, really.

Jian's face twisted. "I don't want you to die, Carolin. You shouldn't have to die."

"I'm not taking a Knight, Jian. If I'm going to die, then it might as well be before I take too many people with me. But Leonhart - him I will take."

Jian took a deep breath. It was betraying everything he'd been taught, but really - he _didn't_ want Carolin to die. "I'll fight beside you," he said. "If you'll let me."

"So you can be my Knight? Jian, how many times must I say 'no' before you listen?" So gentle, spoken words soft as a caress.

"I don't have to be your knight," said Jian. "Call me your stableboy, your servant, your housekeper - whatever. I don't care. Just...let me be with you. Let me serve you. Let me...be your friend." _Which is what a Knight does, but she would never believe it._

"How?" asked Carolin. "Be my friend how?"

Jian chuckled. "Is there a test, for friendship?"

"In your case, I think so." There was no trust in her eyes, Jian noted sadly. But then, he'd done nothing as yet to really earn it.

There was only one card left to play. Jian used what strength he could muster to roll onto his side, so that he could see Carolin's face clearly. He regretted that he lacked the strength to stand, or at least kneel, but when he'd thought of this solution he hadn't counted on her being quite such a good shot.

"Kill me now, then," he said, breathing heavily from his effort at movement. 

The odd request got through even the mental fog Carolin was currently wandering in. "Why?" she asked curiously.

Jian tried to steady himself, tried to force himself to sit upright. "Carolin...I don't have a place any more. I can't go back to Timber, I can't work with the other Squires. I don't have a home, or friends, any longer. I gave them up, because keeping them meant I would lose you. I can't make you trust me, Carolin. But if you don't feel that what I've done counts for anything at all, then please - just kill me now, and let me be done with it."

Carolin frowned, concentrating. "I don't want you to die," she said slowly, as if thinking it out. "But why _did_ you leave your master anyway? You were ready to fight me for his honor, before, weren't you?"

Jian couldn't hold himself upright any longer, and fell back on his back in the soft grass. "Yes, I was," he admitted. "And it's hard to let go of that - he really has been a great teacher, a great man to know. But...something about you throws his thinking off, Carolin. He acts like you're already plotting to overthrow the world, and I just can't believe you'd do that. I can't. So rather than be a part of his plans...I left. I fought him, and I beat him...and I left."

Carolin blinked, slowly. She could remember, in a hazy sort of way, wanting just such a comment from Jian - some evidence that he was as loyal to her, as he had been to his Knight. Even now he wasn't completely abandoning the love he had for his master - he simply did not agree with him on this particular issue.

Now that she had it, she wasn't really sure if she should have wished for it. Jian's expression was pained beyond what could be explained away by his wound, and he shouldn't look like that. Without really thinking about it, she reached out her hand and touched him - going beyond a mere curaga and simply willing her power to heal him. Of the pain she had caused him, she could heal him. As the magic flowed through her and her thoughts cleared, she found herself wishing she could heal him also of the pain his choices had given him.

But there was no way to heal that. There was no perfect world, anywhere. If there had been, Carolin was sure she would never have been born a Sorceress. Part of her wanted to hurt Leonhart, payment in kind for the hurts she now noticed in Jian's body as her power flowed through him.

The thunderbolt had dropped him so quickly and so thoroughly because he'd already been on the edge of collapse. As her Sorceress' magic flowed through her touch into his body, she sensed through it pain and hunger and endurance pressed to the breaking point. It was far more than he could have endured merely fighting monsters to reach her, however long that might have taken. Jian was a capable fighter and not easily defeated.

No. Leonhart had done this - had hurt Jian because he dared to suggest that maybe _this _Sorceress wasn't a threat. In using force to negate a threat that had not then existed, he had succeeded in creating a threat where none had been before - for now Carolin wanted very much to teach this errant Knight a lesson.

Jian's breathing became easier and more relaxed as he felt Carolin's power washing over him, healing every bruise and cut and nick. He found himself entranced by the look on Carolin's face as she used her power - not something he'd been privileged to see before. Her green eyes were completely golden as she worked, shining and bright like the blank eyes of a gold-leaf coated statue. Her expression was distant but not unkind, a sort of sympathy lurking at the edges of her mouth. Somewhat daring, he reached up a hand to touch that face even as she touched his.

In the moment of mutual contact, Carolin became aware of Jian's innocent wonder, and he became aware of her reactions regarding his condition. It was enough to break the moment, both of them pulling their hands away in startlement.

"What...did you do?" asked Carolin. "Some Knight's trick?" She hadn't _sensed_ any ulterior motives...

Jian grimaced. "If you want to call it that. That's the bond, Carolin. If a Sorceress takes a Knight, she can sense him wherever he is, whatever he feels, whatever he thinks if they touch. And he feels the same around her. Knights are supposed to guard a Sorceress' spirit, Carolin. They'd do a pretty lousy job of that if they had to guess at their Sorceress' moods. How could she ever trust a Knight she didn't know? How could he guard a spirit he couldn't feel?" He wrapped his arms around his knees as he looked at her, troubled. "You can't have a bond without trust, I was taught. But I didn't know it'd come to life on its own. I swear that to you, Carolin."

"But...I didn't take you as my Knight," said Carolin, pulling back. "You arranged this, didn't you!" There was anger in her voice now, and a little fear. Jian didn't need any of those signs to know how deeply afraid she was - the bond was forged; at this range, her emotions were his. Leonhart's words about ruling oneself suddenly took on a new and rather painful meaning - for now he was deathly afraid and must use all his control to quell it.

"Carolin, calm down!" he cried. "Can't you feel that I'm sincere? Can't you _feel_ that I want nothing more than your safety? It works both ways, Carolin! I didn't tell you about the bond - yes, that's true. I knew you wouldn't believe me, and if you wouldn't trust me then it didn't matter. But it's not for any power or status that I followed you, Carolin, you must believe me! I came for you - only for you, and for the reason I told you. I want to be your friend. Please, please let me!"

He reached out quickly, and took her hand - hoping that she would choose to let herself feel his sincerity. At first she moved to pull her hand away, but after a moment she calmed. She was no longer afraid, now - but she was still angry. She felt caged, she resented that she had unwittingly taken a Knight when she hadn't wanted one. But beneath that...yes, she did still trust Jian on a personal level. If she hadn't, the bond would not have stayed.

"Swear to me, then," she said. "If I'm stuck with you as my Knight whether I will or not, then swear to me. Do the things that Knights are bound to do."

"The bond is a bridge built from both sides, Carolin, said Jian softly. "It would not exist if you could not trust me, or I trust you. So, somewhere, you are willing that I be your Knight - or I could not be. I cannot do other than tell you the truth, or I serve you poorly." He stood up. "I'm not exactly properly dressed for this," and here he indicated his shirtless state, "and I don't have my sword. Do you want the full formal oath-taking, or will whatever I can manage suffice?" He grinned, teasing.

Carolin couldn't help it, she laughed. Raising one hand toward the house, Jian's sword came flying out. It landed, _smack,_ in her palm. "Here is your sword," she said. "But I don't know what your clothes are supposed to look like."

"Don't make any," he said, suddenly serious. "You're in enough danger as it is. I'll do fine with just the sword." He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and calmed himself. Then, in one swift movement, he drove the point of his sword into the earth before Carolin, and clasped his hands on the pommel as he sank to one knee, head bowed.

In a carrying voice, he said, "I am Jian of the Dragon, once Squire to the Knight Leonhart of the Sorceress Marie. I swear my life in the service of the Sorceress Carolin, for her to take or bestow as she wills. I swear my sword to the service of the Sorceress Carolin, to strike or withold as she wills. Her life is as my life, her happiness is my happiness. I surrender myself to her service for as long as she will have me, even beyond the gates of death."

Carolin blinked; that was quite an oath, and she could feel that Jian meant every word. Unfortunately, she had no idea what the proper response was, so she settled for "All right, I accept. Um...you can get up now, right?"

Jian laughed and stood up, pulling the sword out of the ground and tossing it into the air, catching it neatly in his hand. "Yep," he said with a grin. "There isn't any prescribed response for the Sorceress, milady. It would sort of ruin the point, telling you what to do even as I swear to obey you." His expression grew grim as his gaze fell on the black crystal house. "But _that_," and he pointed with his sword blade at the little castle, "has got to go. Leonhart can kill you if he gets his hands on even a tiny part of that house or anything in it. I hope you still have your old clothes, too - because the same goes for the stuff you're wearing."

"Sounds like you're already telling me what to do," said Carolin sourly. "That sounded like an order, to me."

Jian took her hand in his, to make sure she could feel the truth of his words. "Lady Carolin, believe me when I tell you I have no desire to order you around. But my first concern when I came out here was your safety - and _that_," pointing with the sword at the castle again, "is a major threat to said safety. My life and my sword are yours, milady, but only as long as you live. My job is to make sure that's as long as possible. Okay?"

It worked; Carolin nodded once, quickly. "But how do we destroy it?" she asked. "I tried that, early on - you know, make something and then vaporize it so I could make it again next time. But I can't seem to do it."

"First, my Sorceress, go get your old clothes on," said Jian. "And get anything in there that you _didn't_ make, out. I'll carry it if you like, but only you can easily tell which things you made and which you brought - it'd take me far too long to test everything. Leave your nice dress and jewelry in there, and we can take everything out in one go."

The two of them ran into the house, moving quickly. So neither of them saw a boy of about fifteen years watching the little castle carefully. He hadn't been close enough to hear the words exchanged, but he recognized the pose of fealty Jian had adopted. The mad Sorceress had taken Jian down with her. He probably knew about the danger of Sorceress' Tokens, which would explain why the two of them had run back so quickly - that hadn't been a loverly jog, just now. He wished that he could have arrived sooner - the better to find out why Jian had spent so much of the time on the grass. But it had taken him precious days to pick up Jian's trail, and he'd lost it several times. Jian had feared being tracked, and had covered his trail as best he could.

There was no telling how long Jian had been here, or what the Sorceress had done to him to make him her thrall. But if she had indeed thralled him, it would explain the pose of fealty. Jian, the best Squire Leonhart had brought with him, the thrall of a wild Sorceress. It left a bitter taste in Dorin's mouth - he'd admired Jian, but now they must be enemies. There must not be a Sorceress war.

All the more reason to move quickly, and complete his mission. There must not be a Sorceress war - and if she had indeed taken the Lion's best squire down with her, the war could be bloody indeed. Stealthily - and none of the Squires were as stealthy as he - he crept up to the house, careful to stay out of sight of the windows until he was right beneath one of them. Listening alertly for signs of occupancy on the other side and hearing none, he quickly darted up a hand and grabbed the first object he could reach. Chances were good that it was a Sorceress' Token, but only a Knight had the sensitivity required to say so for certain. He would have to get it back to Leonhart.

Quickly and quietly - and unobserved - he reached the treeline. And once past it, ran for the Knight's compound as though all the demons of hell were after him.


	7. Capture

Leonhart was waiting at his desk when Dorin entered.

He looked a lot worse than when he'd left; the former thief had been hounded by monsters and had had to fight for his life more than once. He didn't have Jian's skill, or even Lan's, so he'd had to learn on the fly as fast as he could. Mostly, he'd just taken to his heels and run.

He dropped to his knees before his master - half in homage, and half because he didn't have the energy to make his report standing up. He reached into his travel bag, and pulled out the object he had procured - holding it out at arm's length in both hands, head bowed as though it were an offering.

"Lord Leonhart," he said deferentially, "I have obtained that which you sent me for."

"Is that so," said the Lion calmly. "And how do you know? Can you sense the power of Sorceresses now?"

Dorin gulped nervously. The tone in the Lion's voice was not dissimilar to the low growl of a true lion - the quiet warning that you are walking on thin ice.

"No, lord," he stammered. "But the Sorceress made an entire house, and most of the things in it. I found her old dwelling, and as far as I could tell little or nothing was taken from it. The things in the house where I found her - she must have made them with her magic, sir."

Leonhart nodded slowly, and rose from his seat. "An acceptable assumption," he said. "But I see that you are wounded. Go and find Cori, Dorin. He will tend to your wounds." He reached out as Dorin rose, and took the object from him. As the Squire wobbled his way out of the room, Leonhart turned the item over and over in his hands.

He could feel the tingle of magic in it - the trace of aura. Dorin had done well; the item was indeed a Sorceress' token. He took it back to his desk, still turning it over and over in his hands, feeling the faint tingle in his fingertips. It was, of course, beautiful. It was formed not by any craftsman's skill from base materials, but a thing made from nothingness fully formed. A silver oil lamp, small enough to carry around comfortably.

So much power, in such an innocuous thing.

* * * * * * * * *

Carolin was doing much better now. The bond with Jian had many subtle side effects, and one of them was to eliminate the cycle of headaches and mental fog that she'd been going through. The bond required magic to work as it should, and used Carolin as its battery - preventing her from ever being 'overcharged', the headache state that had set the cycle off. She could still land in a 'fog' state if she overexerted herself, though. They found this out very quickly.

She was back in her jungle-hunter leathers again, and she'd found her miniatures and her weapons. Jian was never less than scrupulously polite - more so since he'd recited that oath - but she could feel the worry and urgency in him as they made sure there were no made things out on the lawn.

That was when he'd found the tracks - booted feet, from the house to the jungle. Booted feet smaller than his own, but there was no way the tracks could be Carolin's. At that point, his worry had shifted to open fear - but they still had to destroy the house. There was a chance the intruder hadn't taken anything, and if that were the case then he would be back. It would be over for certain if the house were still here when he did.

Once they'd verified that there were no made things outside the house, Jian - still only in his crimson silk pants, as there was nothing for him to replace his lost tunic with - knelt facing the house. Looking up at Carolin, he said, "This isn't going to be fun, my lady. For either of us, really - but it's the only way to access this part of your power. Stand behind me, if you will, and put your hands on my shoulders. You have to pour the power into me, and then I can use it to destroy the things you've made. I'm not a Sorceress - I can't create the power in myself, or hold the power I'm given, so you don't need to worry about that. All I can do is shape _your_ magic to create an effect as it flows through me. Remember that, please. If you need to, and you can touch me, you can cast your spells through me. It's sometimes a very useful trick, because men aren't expected to have magic."

Carolin only nodded - she was currently acutely aware of the danger she'd put herself in, all unwitting. If Jian could help her undo it, she was quite willing to do whatever was needed - though she still felt a bit uncomfortable knowing that he was now her Knight. She pulled off her green leather gloves and put them in her pockets - she'd need them later, when they started running. Then she put her hands on Jian's bare shoulders, closed her eyes, and poured her magic into him. She felt him stiffen under her hands...and then...

For Jian, the world was aflame. Sorceress' magic, poured into him pure, with no shaping intent riding its current. No will to heal, no will to harm, no will to create. Only power, pure and strong and burning him from the inside out. No wonder Knights undertook this task only with reluctance - no wonder that they chose to discourage Sorceresses from creating Tokens in the first place. He could not hold the power as it flowed into him - to even attempt it might cause him to burst into flames like a rising phoenix. Even the slowing of it as he shaped its final form burned him horribly.

He forced himself to concentrate. _The house - the castle - must be destroyed._ He set his will upon that single goal, and felt his arms raise from his sides and point themselves at his target. He willed himself to be a conduit; he would not hold the power, nor even slow it, but only shape it as it passed through his body. He willed it to be annihilation incarnate, destructive force beyond measure. There must not be a single shard of black crystal, not a single altered molecule of magic remaining.

It felt like he knelt there...forever. When the torrent of power ceased, there was no sign of the black crystal castle or anything in it. He had no energy to rejoice, however. Without the half-real pull of the power conduit, nothing held him up - and he fell bonelessly, gratefully, into the grass. Vaguely he wondered if he should have destroyed the lawn too, but decided that since it was alive, and therefore constantly changing, it wouldn't be a danger. He couldn't feel Carolin's aura in the grass.

He half-heard a thump behind him, felt a weight across his legs. Carolin, too, had been drained by the effort needed to destroy the castle. It alerted him somewhat; he was a Knight now, and had duties. He levered himself up on both hands, and managed to crawl over to his unconscious Sorceress. Slowly, watching every move to make sure his exhausted muscles did what they were told to do, he arranged her body neatly so that she wouldn't cut off her circulation as she slept off the power drain.

That duty done, he took one of her hands in his own and fell back onto the grass. He would have to hope that no monsters intruded for a while, because if they did he had no strength to defend against them. He would recover first, of course. It hadn't been _his_ power that laid the castle waste. He had only directed the force - which had been effort enough.

_Welcome to Knighthood, Jian of the Dragon,_ he thought to himself. _Pretty different from the dream, isn't it?_

* * * * * * * *

Leonhart flipped through the yellowed pages of an old, old book. Dorin had made his report from his bunk, Cori fussing over him like a mother hen. It did not inspire confidence in the Lion - the signs were that the situation was growing more grave, rather than less so.

Dorin had seen the Sorceress in full finery stretched out on her lawn, watching clouds. The serene inactivity was a sign of mana poisoning - the first stage of insanity for a knightless sorceress. Too long in that stage, and she would begin killing to clear the fog; too long doing _that_ and killing became a reflex. By that time it was usually too late to save her.

Dorin had seen Jian, battered and shirtless, lying on the lawn next to her. The center of his chest had been pale and pink, the sign of recently healed wounds. Since the pattern was a starburst, it was unlikely to have been the result of a monster's attack. No, Jian had gotten that wound from the sorceress herself. That strongly indicated that her killing had become reflex, or nearly so.

And Jian had sworn fealty - Dorin had been very definite on that point. Even after she had wounded him, he had sworn to her. He regretted that Dorin had not been close enough to overhear the conversation that had led to that. It would have made this choice much simpler.

For Jian could have sworn fealty while in full control of himself. If that were the case, the pair were no threat to anyone. Sorceresses generally didn't go in for world conquest once bonded. But Jian might not have been in control of himself, and sworn fealty while in thrall. And if _that_ were the case, he would only heighten Carolin's insanity - magnifying her emotions and reflecting them back to her. She would be twice the danger then, for she would have Jian as an extra set of eyes and ears.

Ah, that hurt. She had chosen his best Squire, possibly by sheer luck. And he had done his level best to train Jian to be strong, to be able to resist the pull of a Sorceress' emotions and keep his head. But - to swear to a woman who would use her magic against him? It was not the choice of a sane man. Leonhart's gamble had failed - instead of driving a Knight to this Sorceress, he had driven a boy pushed too far - and that boy had become her thrall. _His_ Jian, the Squire he had trained, was no more. There was only an echo of this new Sorceress' will.

An echo of a mad Sorceress, with broad and detailed knowledge of Knights and the weaknesses of Sorceresses. An echo who - thanks to the Lion's own choices - probably would want to come here and kill the eleven remaining Squires...and the Knight who led them. Timber's only defense. And then...there would be nothing to stop that pair from moving on to Centra, from using their power on the Empire's strongholds. The new Empress was as yet weak, with only a few Knights to her name. A thall-Knight with Jian's training, and a Sorceress powerful enough to take over the boy's will...the new Empress would be hard-pressed to keep her throne, and Centra would be plunged into war.

He couldn't take the risk. He couldn't just break a wizard stone on the lamp - he had no idea where the two of them were, and would have no way of taking advantage of the sorceress' temporary powerlessness.

No, he'd have to try something much more drastic - he'd have to try to make the loss permanent. And for that, he needed the books of lore that were a Knight's second duty. The tactic hadn't been required in centuries, and had never been all that popular in the first place.

There. That was it. Leonhart grabbed a quill and a spare sheet of paper, and copied out the requirements. A vampire fang to drain the Sorceress' power, and a spider web to hold it. A steel orb to pull that power into the lamp, and a wizard stone to power the spell. He snapped the book shut, and returned it to its place on the shelf. Then he summoned Elric.

"Assemble all the Squires in the courtyard in ten minutes," he ordered. "I want everyone but Cori in full battle readiness, and that includes you. Cori is to assemble every healing item he can find or gather and hold them ready for the wounded, but I want him to hear the order as well. Now get moving."

Elric gave a rather unmanly squeak of surprise, but darted off to do the Lion's bidding. Leonhart took his time walking down to the courtyard, so that his Squires would have a chance to get ready and assemble before he arrived. When he did step into the courtyard they were there - a bit breathless, to be sure, but armed and armored according to each one's skills and specialties. Cori alone was unarmed, wearing instead the white surcoat of his healer's training.

"My Squires, you know that not long ago one of your number abandoned his training," he began. "I tell you now that he has taken league with a rogue Sorceress, one who by all reports has gone mad in her solitude. Her power must be contained before she can do the world harm, and to this end I have summoned you. Go alone or in groups as large as you need to survive, but I must have a vampire fang, a spider web, and a steel orb to perform the containment. I will leave it to you, who shall hunt what - but I must have all the items as quickly as possible. The safety of the Empire is at stake. Dismissed."

The Squires stared in amazement for a moment, but quickly got hold of themselves again and assembled into teams. They filed out of the gate in good order, dispersing to accomplish their goal. Leonhart turned to Cori, the only Squire left. "You will wait here," he said. "Not all of them are ready to face monsters, and some will surely be injured. Do your best for them."

"What if they meet up with this Sorceress, sir?" asked Cori.

Leonhart's pale eyes were lifeless as he said, "Then they are dead."

* * * * * * * *

Carolin roused to find her head remarkably clear - though she still felt very drained, and not a little tired. Jian was standing nearby, his hands resting comfortably on the pommel of his longsword, the tip just lightly pressed to the ground.

"I'm glad you're all right, Lady Carolin," he said. "You've been out for a few hours now."

Carolin tucked a few stray wisps of red hair back into her braid. "What's with all the 'lady' stuff now, Jian? Did I become a queen in my sleep?"

Jian grinned, open and friendly. "Nope. But I did swear myself to your service. You're due proper courtesy - wouldn't want you to feel unduly hemmed in and all."

Carolin laughed and stood up, though she knew he must have picked that phrase up from her thoughts. "Well, given that I _should_ be counting clouds or clutching my head and howling, I feel pretty good." She assumed a pose of exaggerated thought. "Let me guess - next order of business is to find whoever it was hiding under my window. Right?"

Jian nodded, his smile fading a bit. "Right. We can't let him get back to Leonhart - and let's hope he hasn't already. Especially if he _did_ manage to steal something." He started, hearing something in his own words, and then his fist clenched. "Dorin - _of course._ He had to have sent Dorin. Milady, we are in _deep_ trouble."

Carolin frowned. "Let me guess - another one of the Squires I never met."

"Got it in one, milady. Dorin used to be a thief before he took up Squire's training. He's one of the Lion's charity cases - a boy chosen because he needs a better road in life, that kind of thing. He's the best tracker and thief of all the Squires, and probably the only one who could've followed me here. He got close to the house, and he's too good not to have stolen something. Milady, our only hope now is to get to Leonhart before he does, or get to him before he gets back to the compound. The Lion fears you, Lady Carolin. If he gets his hands on one of your made things, he won't hesitate to use it."

"Is there nothing we can do if he gets the - whatever - before we can stop it?" asked Carolin nervously.

Jian looked down, and tried to smile but failed. "Lady...there are only two choices at that point, and from what you've shown me you wouldn't like either of them. One is to do nothing - just let the Lion pull your power away. Since your life and your power are linked, that will kill you. The other..." Jian looked away nervously, and swallowed. "The other option is to open yourself to me, completely. We'd become something new then, and instead of the object containing your power it'd actually end up containing _us_ - until such time as whatever it is is broken. But...you'd never be completely alone again. This bond, what we have now - it's nothing compared to that. I'd know everything about you, completely and fully - and you'd know everything about me. If we're not compatible, then when the object is broken we'll separate. Probably both of us'll be crazy too, depending on how long it takes for the object to get broken. If we _are_ compatible...well, it could still be a very long and dull life, but we'd eventually be able to leave it, if we wanted to. But, Lady, you value your independence. I'm not sure you want to make use of that option."

"Then I'll give us a hand," said Carolin. Calling on her power, she cast Float and Haste on both of them. Jian grabbed her hand and ran as fast as he could, setting his course for Leonhart's compound.

* * * * * * * *

Lan was the first of the Squires to return, of course. He'd gone out alone, and no one had stopped him. He bled from numerous gashes and his blade-bo was broken down the center, but he handed Leonhart the steel orb he'd gone for before he gave himself over to Cori's ministrations. It was, of course, the most difficult item to obtain - but there were slight hints of guilt in Lan's attitude, something that said he was taking Jian's defection personally.

Odd, to find Lan reacting emotionally - or at least, emotionally for Lan. Over the next few hours the others returned - all battered, all bloody, all exhausted...and all successful. Cori had his hands full, stitching wounds and applying bandages until he could brew potions enough to bring the group back up to full strength. The Lion had been firm in his order that any Squire who returned should be fully healed of any wounds as soon as possible. Cori knew better than to disobey, though the materials required to brew potions were expensive and hard to come by.

Leonhart closed the door to his study, and laid the hard-won prizes out on his desk. Next to them was a mortar and pestle he'd obtained from Cori. In the mortar he placed the fang, the web, and the stone - the wizard stone being the only item he'd already had on hand. With the full force of his regret, he pounded the items and ground them into a uniform powder.

There were no words for a containment spell. It had been designed as a last resort against corrupt Sorceresses. If a mere silence spell could negate the ritual, there was no point in doing it. Leonhart opened the oil lamp, tipped out the oil, and put the steel orb inside.

He held the mortar containing the powder over the lamp, and noticed his hand was shaking. He knew why - because no matter what, as a result of this Jian would be forever lost. Dorin had seen him swear fealty. It might be that he would not die with the rogue Sorceress, but at the very least he would be scarred for life - even as Leonhart himself was scarred, only moreso. For once the mad rogue was dead, Jian would remember everything he'd done as her thrall with a sane man's eyes, and know that he had helped to push the world to the brink of war. Not many men had the strength to live after knowing they had become a Sorceress' slave. But it could not be helped. The risk to innocent lives if he forbore was too great.

Slowly, silent tears running unheeded and unnoticed down his cheeks, the Old Lion began sprinkling the powder on the orb and the lamp.

As he did so, the lamp began to glow.

* * * * * * * * *

Jian felt it almost at the same time as Carolin, the feeling of having his life pulled from his very body. Both of them stumbled in their run, tumbling painfully for a few paces along the ground before hitting a tree trunk.

Carolin backed up against it, one fist pressed to her chest and the other clutching her head. "Uuuugh," she moaned. "Jian - Jian, we're too late..." The pull at her magic, her life, was terrifying - and one of its aspects was to deny her strength to say the words of fear. It was an effort to form words at all.

She didn't need to tell him, though - he felt it too, the heavy draining pull as he dragged himself upright. "Tell me....tell me quick," he panted. "Tell me what you...want me to do." _Damn you, Leonhart. Could you not have waited even one more hour? Even one?_

Carolin, too, was furious - the child's fury that cries out to the universe 'It's not fair!'. They were less than an hour away from the compound, and to have this happen when they were so close - freedom no longer an option but only death or imprisonment - enraged her. At that point, she decided. Leonhart might take her freedom, but he _would not_ take her life. She would have her revenge, someday. "I'll...take imprisonment," she gasped. "Tell me...how to do it."

"Take...my hand," he managed, and staggered over to her. Into her, really - the pull was growing heavier, weakening both of them. "Open yourself...to me and I'll...do the same. Will us...to be one."

She fumbled against him for his hand, both of them breathing heavily, faces pale, and opened her mind to him. In the next moment, she felt him open his to her. 

This bond would hold, both of them quickly realized. There was trust here, and friendship, and an absolute faith that - had they been given the time - would develop into love. Jian was entranced by Carolin's steadfastness and courage. Carolin was overjoyed at Jian's faith and honesty. Their minds nestled together like pieces of a puzzle snapped into place, even as their bodies glowed and merged, changing and growing into something new. They would not go insane in Leonhart's prison. They would survive it, and one day fly free. And fly in truth; great batlike wings burst forth from the new form's back, red and black.

Both of them were angry - angry at the injustice of Leonhart's decision, angry at the sheer unfairness of what was happening to them. In that moment of mutual openness and joining, their unity of thought strengthened and hastened the process - and it determined their shape.

A great black creature, a cross between human and dragon with the coloration of an angry demon. A long blue serpentine tail lashed around their ankles, huge red-and-black bat wings unfurling toward the sky as eyes of a solid field of glowing pale yellow-gold glared their fury. Strong fingers ended in long black claws, teeth tipped in fangs, head graced with horns. The mere sight of them would have sent all eleven remaining Squires scurrying for their bunks to hide under the blankets. The name came to them as easily as the shape; a name of fear, of anger. _Diablos_ - the demon, the devil. Let Leonhart know at first sight of them, what they thought of his overhasty judgement.

But their joining did not halt the terrible pull of the containment spell. Even as the white glow of their new shape faded, the dragonlike humanoid fell to one knee, one black-clawed fist held to its chest as its great fanged head roared its pain. Slowly the great demon-shape grew translucent...and then it faded altogether.

* * * * * * * *

The last of the powder trickled down onto the glowing lamp, but Leonhart no longer saw it. He fumbled on the desk for the lamp's lid, and screwed it into place over the steel orb. The containment of the Sorceress' magic would last as long as the lamp was not broken - the world was safe.

Leonhart rested his forehead against his crossed wrists, feeling the wetness on his cheeks that were his tears. An innocent life - perhaps two - taken for the sake of security. He had wondered before if he would have the strength to do what must be done. It seemed that the answer was yes.

At least he would never be called on to make the decision again. He'd had to watch the lamp carefully, make sure all the dust landed on either it or the orb. The glow as it contained the Sorceress' power had grown brighter and brighter as the minutes wore on, but he had not dared to look away. If the spell failed, there would be one very powerful and very angry Sorceress at his gates, and his Squires would be so much chaff in the wind. So he'd kept his eyes fixed on that little sun, and done as his duty commanded.

But he could not do any more. No trapping of Sorceresses, no training of Squires. Not from a blind Knight. It was a relief, in a way, to know that he could put aside the mantle of duty at last, be only the man who had dared to fall in love, once, with a Sorceress. The young, reckless, nameless lad that Marie had chosen and bestowed her favor on, so many years ago.

A knock on his door - he raised his head instinctively, though he saw only darkness.

"Sir?" said a voice. Elric - Cori must have finished brewing the potions, and now Elric considered himself on duty again.

"Take this lamp," said Leonhart, "and give it to Lan. Tell him to find someplace for it where it will never be disturbed, never touched. Whatever you do, don't open it - and tell Lan not to open it either."

Elric didn't move. "Sir...your face sir, it's all over blood. I'm gonna go get Cori." There was a scampering of feet, which had to be the sound of the young Squire fleeing.

Blood? Well, the light from the lamp probably hadn't been just ordinary light. Not with so much magic flying around. At least it would spare him having to tell the Squires - Cori would tend him, and confirm his blindness, and then Elric would spread the word to the others. Odd that it hadn't hurt. Bleeding wounds usually did hurt, for one reason or another.

Two people approaching. One was probably Cori, and the other Elric.

"Sir," said Cori. "Can you see me, sir?"

"No."

The healer-Squire gently washed his face with a damp cloth, swiping carefully around the eyes. "Sir, I'm afraid eye drops won't cure this one. You've practically cauterized all the nerve endings in your eyes. There's nothing I can do."

"I did not ask you to, Squire," said the Old Lion flatly. "I have done my duty. It seems that I will now have a respite from duty. I do not regret the loss."

"But sir - what of us?"

"I will arrange for you to return to Centra if you wish - all of you who wish to go. I can no longer complete your training, after all." his voice was calm, level. As if discussing the daily chore rota.

"Sir," said Cori, in acknowledgment. He finished his work in silence after that.

"Elric - take the lamp and do as I have ordered," said Leonhart after a time, guessing that the other Squire was Elric.

"He is not here, sir," came Lan's voice, instead. "He sent for me. I will make sure the lamp is not found again in this lifetime at least." There was a hint of respect in his voice - the respect of one warrior for the wounds of another. Without his eyes, Leonhart found himself listening even more carefully to slight changes in voice. He heard the lamp lifted off the desk, then one pair of booted feet leaving.

Cori finished his work and then left Leonhart alone. He stared for a long while into the empty night, wondering if losing his sight was really a fair price for what he had had to do - or whether in truth he'd gotten off lightly.


	8. Captivity

They stood in a black and featureless place. There was no up or down, no light - though they could see each other just fine - and no horizon.

"Now what?" asked Carolin.

Jian shrugged. "There's not exactly a lot of lore on this part, milady, and I didn't exactly finish my Squire's training in the first place," he said. "It's better than death, I suppose."

Carolin turned to him, and he noticed that her hair was out of its habitual tight french braid. Instead it now spilled loosely over her shoulders, ran in red rivers down her back. "There is _nothing_ here, Jian. If we're here for long, we really will go crazy."

Jian grinned. "I said there wasn't a _lot_ of lore," he laughed. "That doesn't mean I know nothing about this place."

She raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?" she asked archly.

Jian laughed again. "Milady...we are one. In this place, it's not as complete as it might be - and for that you should thank whatever god you pray to - but you can see anything in my mind you want to see."

Carolin frowned and stared at him a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, I do see. So we can do whatever we like here?"

"Except leave," said Jian - somewhat sadly. "We have absolute control over this place, but until your made thing is broken, we can't leave." To demonstrate, he wished himself a new crimson tunic - one that outlined the red sword-cross of the Knights in gold thread on the shoulder. Then he wished himself a comfortable chair to sit in. "We can make or destroy anything we like here - and that includes any visitors we might get."

Carolin wished herself back in the regal raiment she'd worn when he found her in the jungle - even a diadem of emeralds and diamonds in her hair. "I suppose if I'm Queen of this universe, I'd better look the part," she said. "But I don't know if I like the eyes. Will our eyes always be like this?"

Jian grinned; she'd seen her reflection in his mind, just as he'd seen his reflection in hers. So she knew that both of them now had eyes that were a solid glowing field of pale yellow-gold. "As long as we're joined like this, Lady Carolin, yes," he said. "I'm really more surprised at our shape. I'd have thought something more...majestic, I guess."

Carolin chuckled then, a wry and slightly bitter sound. "Ah, now _that_ part didn't surprise me at all, even as uninformed as I am on how all this works," she said. "When you opened your mind to me - what did you think? What did you feel?"

Jian frowned. "I wanted to tear Leonhart to shreds," he admitted. "He shouldn't have moved to condemn so quickly. Damn it all, he was _wrong_!"

Carolin summoned herself a long couch and reclined on it. "You see? And I was thinking more or less the same thing. I think our basic purity of intent overrode whatever usually determines shape. I rather doubt people are _usually_ thinking 'I have to tear so-and-so to shreds' when they undergo the change. Do you?"

"Hyne, I hope not," said Jian. "But then...I don't really know much about what happens to people after they change like this. I just knew it was possible, and that it would keep you from dying, Lady Carolin."

Carolin frowned. "I suppose it's better than dying," she said. "But if I didn't know you were trying to do what you think is right, I'd swear you set me up to land me here." She blew out a long sigh. "Jian...you're getting more out of this than I am. I just wish I'd never laid eyes on any of you Squires. Or that Leonhart had decided to come to another town besides Timber."

That stung a bit. "It is said in the capital that a true friend is rarer than a true love," he remarked quietly. "You hid what you are from me - not without good reason, milady, I know that - but Leonhart saw the truth before I did. Only natural, I suppose - he's been a Knight longer than I've been alive, and he _still_ knows ten times more about it than I do. I've done my best to keep you alive, Lady Carolin. I'll understand if you want to separate as soon as we're freed. I never meant to cage you."

She could feel the truth of that. Even as he spoke, she felt his thoughts in her mind. But speaking mind-to-mind was just..._eerie_. There was no reason not to speak here, so that was what she preferred to do.

"I know, Jian," she said sadly. "But caged is what I am, now. Better than dead, but not by much. I'd have let the bastard kill me if I hadn't known that was exactly what he wanted. Now, I won't give him the satisfaction. I'll live just because I know that it'll infuriate him." She laughed a little, bitterly. "What a reason to live."

Jian nodded. "I know what you mean. I want him to know he was wrong - I can't bear the idea that he could go forever and never know what he's really done. Lady Carolin - would you object if I set a call for him? This world of ours...we can't leave it, but other people can enter it. And we can pull people in if we choose. I'd like to set a trap for him - the minute he enters a state where he _could_ come here, I want him to _be_ here."

"We can do that?" asked Carolin - then flicked through Jian's memories to confirm that yes, they could. Their world bordered on an eternal realm, where some people could come in their dreams, and others could only come when they died. Leonhart might have to die first, but eventually he would come within their reach. "Yes - do that. It will kill a few centuries, preparing a hell just for him."

Jian frowned. "I agree he should be punished, Lady Carolin," he said, "but I have no taste for torture. I'd rather drop him in a private hell and just leave him there, than stand around watching. Or better yet, make him our eyes and ears outside this place - so that we aren't completely lost when we're released."

"He would do that?" She frowned. "Okay, I can see why _you_ think he would do that. But I don't have quite your faith in him. I suppose it'll be better for him than what I have in mind, though, so he'll probably agree. I'll agree with you that we could use _some_ way of keeping track of time. Hyne...I will miss the sun by the time we leave!"

Jian could only agree with that; the featurelessness of their prison was very depressing. He raised his head and threw one arm straight up - palm up and perpendicular to the arm. A great black sphere took shape, and eventually launched itself upward - quickly becoming lost in the overall blackness around them. Then he lowered his arm.

"I've sent the call," he said unnecessarily. "He's made a mistake, milady, trapping us here. It's set our power - we can pull him to us with it. Pull _anyone_ to us. That sphere will wait for him until he enters the eternal realm - and then it will have him, and bring him here."

Carolin's golden eyes narrowed. "Until then, it should kill a few decades - preparing the perfect hell for him. I like your idea, actually. He trapped us here, and probably didn't give us a second thought once he did. Let him learn, then, what it feels like." Immediately she began creating a place within their realm just for their captor. From what Jian could see, it looked like red-hot pokers were just the start of it.

* * * * * * * *

There was no sense of time, in the featureless prison. They were a force now, no longer mortal, and grew neither hungry nor tired. That meant they couldn't even measure time in terms of sleep and waking, or eating and drinking. So they were quite surprised when, after an undefinable while, Jian's sphere returned - carrying the trapped soul of Leonhart within it.

By this time, Jian and Carolin had abandoned words - thoughts flickered between their minds much more quickly than they could be spoken, carrying greater meaning than inflection or tone alone could do. Carolin decided that Leonhart would never hear her speak - nor would any human but Jian. He understood why; it was not haughtiness, but rather that she could not trust her voice any longer to say what she truly meant. And she had no desire to spend time explaining things to people who would not understand why she did not revel in the power she was given. Jian, she trusted. Jian was her friend. The rest of the world could quite literally go to hell for all she cared.

When the sphere faded and Jian's former master stood before them, they got a second surprise. No longer did he look like a man even in his late forties, as Jian had known him. Instead he was a young man of about nineteen or twenty, with features sharp and fine, unblurred by age, and almost hauntingly beautiful. His hair had no gray in it, being instead a rich maple-brown, cut thick and fine. He cut a breathtaking figure in his black clothes, with his black-and-silver surcoat embroidered with a lion's head. The red Knight's Cross stood like a bleeding wound on his shoulder. It was easy to see why he'd caught a Sorceress' eye. Where Jian stood like a sunrise, Leonhart stood like a full moon night. Only the eyes were unchanged. Silver gray, piercing eyes...with not a single hint of mercy or leniency in them. It took Jian only a moment in meeting those eyes again, to remember his fury in being imprisoned here.

But no one, ever, had accused the Lion of being stupid. He took one look at Jian, and the blackness all around, and dropped to one knee, kneeling as a paladin kneels before a relic of his god, head bowed with one black-gloved fist over his heart.

The pose was rather ruined by Jian's well-connected punch, which almost dropped the black-clad Knight out of sight in the surrounding blackness. He did not move from where he landed, only returned to the kneeling pose.

"Why!" roared Jian - and found his voice had changed. It was still his, but it was also Carolin's - and a grating, heavy voice that cracked like an open tomb, or a yawning dragon. "You will tell us that before anything else, you _bastard_. Why didn't you stop the spell! Why did you start it so soon?"

"I didn't stop it because I didn't know that it was going wrong," said Leonhart calmly, still not raising his head from the pose of reverence. "That ritual hasn't been needed in two hundred years, and the notes I had were fairly vague. I started it as soon as I could because I could not trust that you were sane. If you were thralled then when you arrived the Squires would die - and they would only be the first. I did what I felt must be done."

"If it is any comfort to you - and I don't imagine it will be - I have spent the last forty years blind and alone. I will serve whatever punishment you see fit to mete out, Divine One."

Jian's anger deflated - though he could still feel Carolin's fury. "Are we your god now, Leonhart?" he asked flatly.

"You are a god of this world," said Leonhart, "imprisoned or not. You can force me to suffer whatever you wish, and there is nothing I can do about it. I merely accept the hand that fate has dealt me."

Jian turned his back on him then. It was the Lion's way, he knew, to turn situations around by reacting in ways that weren't expected. Thoughts flickered, lightning-fast, between his mind and the mind of his Sorceress.

"You will suffer, Leonhart," said Jian flatly. "You have earned that, by placing us here unjustly - you, who proclaim your devotion to justice. You do not even know my Lady's name, she whom you gave this choice to. She sees fit to keep it that way; you shall neither see her nor know her name until she feels you have earned forgiveness. You will suffer in the hell that she has made for you, until I fetch you out. You will teach me then, all the things I had no time to learn while I moved to save her, until I return you to your hell again. I imagine you'll probably come up with things to say after a while - my Lady has thought of nothing but her anger for you since we came here. How long did you say that was? Forty years?"

"Yes," said Leonhart quietly. "But I will tell you this now, Divine One. You are a god, but you are a weak god. Your bond was based not in love but in friendship and anger, and it was only new-formed when you were pulled here. If you would survive your prison, you will need to make alliance with other gods. If you would shorten your imprisonment, you must first win over Bahamut. Bahamut can see the futures, all the futures that may be. It can tell you what course to take to shorten your captivity."

Ah, _now_ he had Carolin's interest - Jian could sense it. "And how does one contact a god, when this prison holds us here? If you are asking us to let you go and fetch this Bahamut, I am afraid you are going to be disappointed."

"You have only to call for it," said Leonhart. "It cannot be forced here, as I was, but you can send it a summons. It is one of the strongest of your kind - I would suggest being polite."

"Enough!" snapped Jian, and with a wave of his hand sent the Knight to the hell that Carolin had created. It was so hard to remember that this man was his enemy - he'd spent so much of his time admiring Leonhart that he'd never noticed the man's flaws until they caught him on the chin. Literally. And then he would say something like that...and with the tone remind Jian of who had been Squire, and who Knight...and Jian would have to fight down the urge to flatten him.

He took no especial joy in inflicting pain. Carolin did, with a positively sadistic glee. Especially on this one. He couldn't really blame her - having Leonhart around only emphasized their aloneness in this featureless place. He didn't like to think of his Sorceress inflicting pain, but since the man was already dead there was no other way for Carolin to feel that the Knight properly understood what it was to have an undefined sentence of captivity. She really did take being caged very harshly - sometimes, he caught her thinking it might have been better to die, after all. And those thoughts hurt the worst.

He sent out the call to Bahamut. His lady's energies were better spent than on pointless torture, however psychologically gratifying it might be.

Barely had the dark sphere disappeared against his prison's featureless blackness, than a couple appeared a few feet away from him. The Knight looked not unlike Jian, only with a much, much longer sword. His Sorceress opted for a casual combat look as well, dressing as a swordswoman. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

Both of them had eyes as black as Jian's prison, with flecks of light that glittered like stars dancing in their depths. They looked in unison to the set-aside place where Carolin had made her hell, and frowned.

"If you would be free, you would be wise not to do that," they said in unison. "What the old lion has captured, a young lion may free. If this one is also free to influence events."

Jian frowned, and in a moment Carolin appeared at his side. "What can he do now? He is dead, isn't he?"

The couple that made up Bahamut smiled. "We foresee a time where he will be able to have an influence upon the holder of your prison. You will not be able to force him to exert his will on your behalf. You may only persuade him."

Carolin frowned. Jian picked up the impression that she was quite enjoying giving the Knight who'd ruined her life a little payback.

"Thank you for your advice, Bahamut," said Jian politely. "If we do this...will we be released sooner?"

Bahamut laughed, two throats making three sounds. "Diablos, if you do _not_ do this, you will never be free at all."

_That_ prospect sent Carolin running to destroy the hell she'd made. Not without a little grumbling at the necessity, though. Jian turned to them, and said "Thank you."

Bahamut nodded. "We understand her feelings, but we have no desire to see a corrupt Guardian Force arise. We serve ourselves as well as you, by warning you. But your imprisonment will be long, very long yet. Conserve your strength, and do not waste it in frivolity. You will be needed, in years to come."

Jian turned his head and watched Carolin freeing Leonhart. She still refused to speak to him, a small spite taking the place of a larger one he supposed. "It will be nice to be needed, I think," he said a little wistfully. But when he turned his head back to where Bahamut had been, the couple was gone.

Leonhart kneeled before them, in the pose he'd been in before. One of the rules of this place seemed to be that you could control your own appearance - at least to an extent - so he didn't look as though he'd been through hell. But both of them knew he had. Leonhart's thoughts echoed in the prison, readable by both Jian and Carolin, and those thoughts echoed with pain and shame.

But, as yet, no thought of vengeance. Either Leonhart was very good at masking his true thoughts - something Jian considered unlikely, given the circumstances - or he was if anything judging himself more harshly that even Carolin had. Hell wasn't really a punishment if you truly believed you deserved worse - and it seemed that Leonhart did.

Thoughts flickered between Jian and Carolin, determining what should be said and how it should be said. Finally, Jian bade Leonhart rise.

"Leonhart," he began, "Do you feel we deserve this place you have imprisoned us in? Had you known the truth - had you been willing to see it - do you think we would be here?" Jian knew the answer already, floating in the Knight's mind, but they needed to make him say it.

Which he did. "No," said Leonhart sadly. "Your Sorceress is an angry one, but she is sane and there are reasons for her anger. You were - are - no danger to the Empire. You do not deserve what I have done to you."

"We have spoken to Bahamut," said Jian. "You can undo what you have done, if you choose."

Leonhart looked up at that. "Then tell me how, Divine One. Your Lady's fires and pains are nothing compared to the magnitude of my mistake."

Jian smiled then; exactly what he'd been hoping for. He dared to hope, just a little, that his original respect for the Lion had not been misplaced. "We can release you back into the eternal realm," he said. "Bahamut tells us that you will one day be able to manipulate events so that we can be freed from your prison. If we release you - will you work toward that end?"

Leonhart blinked. "The dead cannot influence the living, Divine One," he said, slightly puzzled. "What does Bahamut think I can do?"

Jian shrugged. "Bahamut says only that you can do it, Leonhart. It did not say how."

"Then I will do my best," said Leonhart, and bowed. A little part of Jian - and a larger part of Carolin - was thinking _I could get used to this._

"Then go," said Jian, and threw a dark sphere at Leonhart. The sphere carried him out of the dark realm, out of sight.

Carolin turned to Jian then, moved to speak. "What do we do now?" she asked.

"Bahamut said we must conserve our energy, for we will be needed when we are freed. It also said we're going to be here a long time - and when Bahamut says things like that, I'm thinking it means centuries rather than decades. Perhaps we should just...switch off or something. Work on increasing the bond's power, maybe."

Carolin smiled. "Always with you it is the bond. What if I'd like to just be _me_ again when we get out of here?"

Jian frowned. "Bahamut said we will be needed, milady. I think it meant needed as Diablos. It has told us how to get out of here - if we can return the favor by being where we are needed, that's more than a fair trade in my book."

Carolin nodded. "All right, then. For as long as we are needed. I don't _object_ to having your thoughts in my mind, Jian, you know that. I just...wish I'd had more time to be _me_ first."

"I know, milady. As you know I will miss your thoughts, when you are gone." He wrapped his arms around her then, lightly protective but loosely enough not to cage her, his Sorceress who so valued freedom.

They let their minds drift together in a dream-state, floating mind and body a single spark in endless darkness. Diablos would need to be strong.

* * * * * * * *

Leonhart wandered the world alone for a while, wondering what on earth he was supposed to be able to do. Occasionally one or another of his old Squires would pop in, always amazed and grateful that he had his sight back. Not that Leonhart himself wasn't grateful for that. Being dead had its advantages. He didn't dare call out for Bahamut, though. The oracular Guardian Force never took kindly to summonses by anyone of less than divine power. Still - he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. Until he realized he could see Sorceresses. He could see them and hear them, and that gave him an idea of what was going on in the world for a while. He ended up wishing himself blind again when he saw the devastation of the Lunar Cry hit Centra. Human bodies appeared everywhere, generally at least partially eaten, and buildings fell to rubble. His Empire was fallen, and her Empress with her - he saw her die, her magic exhausted as a ... something ... bit her head off. Her death was slow and painful, for there was no one left for her to pass the gift on to.

He fled Centra then, and refused to walk there again. So he was - unfortunately - on hand when the Sorceress Adel arose in Esthar. He did not dare to influence this madwoman towards finding the lamp - what she would do with the power of that Guardian Force was not worth thinking about. But Adel was searching for someone - perhaps that someone would be trustworthy. But Adel couldn't find this girl, and she was looking everywhere even remotely inhabited.

It was lucky she was insane, or she'd have worked out where the girl must be before Leonhart could nerve himself to go there. Centra, again. He was quite surprised to find another Sorceress down there; a sane Sorceress even. Leonhart exerted his will on her - _Visit Timber. Go to this place. Bring out the lamp._

It didn't quite work as he'd hoped. She sent someone else for the lamp, and whoever it was took a hellishly long time about it. But in the end he saw the lamp and its carrier - a rather bumbling man. He gave the lamp into the Sorceress' grasp and disappeared again. She knew what it was, of course, as soon as she touched it. She was, after all, a Sorceress. She gave whoever had brought it to her clear instructions that only a powerful fighter attempt to open it - and then smiled and hinted that 'the children' probably would be strong enough eventually.

He had seen the carrier when he held he lamp. Perhaps she would have 'the children' - whoever they were - hold it too. He tried that, but to his surprise she spoke a response.

"I feel you, whoever you are," she said. "I have the lamp you wanted me to have - I imagine you have some connection with it. But I am not going to put children in the way of being harmed by it. There is great power in that lamp, but it is not purely benevolent. If you want them to play with it, you'll have to wait until they are older and stronger." She paused then, and smiled. "You feel familiar - and I think I know why. Leave me alone, spirit, and go down to the beach. I think you will understand when you see."

Leonhart was shocked. This woman was beyond perceptive; even the Empresses of Centra hadn't clearly felt his influence. But this woman, living in the ruins of empire, had clearly proven she knew when she was being manipulated. The habit of a lifetime's training kicked in, and he moved to obey her - heading out to the beach.

He could see a little boy there, sitting on some high rocks watching the sea. He could _see_ the boy - he hadn't seen a living male since he'd left Diablos' prison. But men couldn't be Sorceresses -he mentally kicked himself. He had seen this gentle Sorceress' Knight when he carried in the lamp, so presumably this boy must have something like the lamp about him. But what? Jian's Sorceress had been the last one he knew of to make anything.

He blinked. _His_ ring? His own Griever, on this child? How? He examined the boy closely - used to the fact that the living could not see him - and detected the slight bulge under his shirt that could come from wearing the ring on a chain. Touching skin.

"And just what do you think you're doing with my son?" came a coolly angry woman's voice behind him.


	9. Release

Leonhart looked up into the face of a very angry young woman, who looked more than a little like the boy who held Griever.

"I'm seeing if that's _my_ ring he's wearing, since you ask," he said a little stiffly. He'd gotten rather used to being invisible and alone, lately.

To his surprise, this answer appeared to make sense to her. Her eyes widened a bit, and she moved to get between Leonhart and the boy. "If the ring in question is called Griever, then your answer is yes," she said, "and you're going to get the hell away from my boy."

He did as ordered, though he knew he could outfight her. The problem was, he couldn't kill her. They were both already dead. The best he could do would be to render her unconscious for a while - and given the clear anger in her blue-gray eyes, he rather thought he'd have to do so repeatedly. She spoke like a woman near the end of her tether, patience frayed and eyes just a little wild.

"Then it is my ring," he said simply. "Though I suppose that's more technicality than reality, since it's there and I'm here. Have I done something to offend you, lady? Or do you get so violent with anyone who comes near your child?"

"Anyone and everyone," she said evenly, determinedly. "You aren't the first one to take an interest in him. He wants to be left alone, and I'll make sure he _is_ left alone - especially by every damn spirit that comes through wanting to manipulate him into solving their little pieces of unfinished business."

Leonhart's head snapped up at that, eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "You have guessed aright at my intentions, lady," he said evenly. "But I am a Knight of Centra. I don't make small requests. And I rather doubt this boy has the property of every spirit that comes near him dangling on a chain around his neck, either. It is _my_ ring that lets you see your son, lady. I think one favor is fair enough exchange for being allowed to watch your son grow up."

Tears glittered in her eyes then. "You think so?" she said, her voice cracking a little as she held them back. "He can't hear me. I try to protect him but he's so lonely, so sad. His sister was taken away last year, and from what he's said all of his companions but one are gone. I can't do anything a mother should do out here. I can't keep him safe - except from opportunistic bastards like you!" There was open fury and desperation in her voice now. "He doesn't have anyone he can count on, that he knows of. But I'll watch over him whether he knows it or not. He may feel alone, but I won't let him be manipulated by your ilk."

Leonhart frowned then. "How does he come to have Griever?" he asked, trying a tangential approach.

"It was mine, and my father's before me, and his father's before him," she said, as though reciting the linage of a curse. "Back all the way back to you, I suppose. Or further, if you inherited it too. My father protected me when I lived from the manipulations of the ghosts, and now I protect my son. So don't go trying to claim it's a family favor. We started doing this because the earliest generations of our family went schizophrenic with the voices in their heads - and that means _you_ didn't protect anyone."

Leonhart nodded gravely. He'd never seen his daughter, born after he'd gone blind. "It might please you to know I was probably in hell at the time, lady," he said simply. "I have created a Guardian Force, and it's not very happy with me. This boy," and he indicated the child sitting on the rocks, "is foretold by Bahamut to be the only chance that Guardian Force has at freedom. I told you - I am a Knight of Centra, and I do not ask small favors."

"A Guardian Force?" asked the woman, surprised for just a moment out of her protective posture. "You..._made_...a Guardian Force? You must really think me stupid."

"Then go inside, and whisper to the Sorceress Edea," he said. "I persuaded her to retrieve its prison, and she hinted to me that she may give it to this boy when he is older."

The young woman shook her head. "I'm not leaving him alone," she said. "We have all the time in the world - it can wait until he goes back inside for dinner."

"Then perhaps we have time for introductions. I am Leonhart of the Sorceress Marie, once-Empress of the Empire of Centra."

The woman blinked slowly, evidently unimpressed - perhaps even scornful. "I'm Raine Leonhart, and this is my son Squall. Who, if I see you direct so much as one word to without my permission, I will happily put you through a great deal of pain to protect."

She meant it too, he could see - there was a hint of desperation in her voice, as though if she made it plain how far she would go, he would forbear attacking her. She was a cat arching its back and hissing, hoping that if it hissed loudly enough the dog wouldn't fight. The boy could be no older than five; probably her guilt at dying while he was young propelled her to make threats she couldn't possibly fulfil. She certainly didn't _look_ like she'd had combat training. Not that he would fight with her over this, even for Diablos' sake. If she was right, then in a way the boy was as much his son as hers.

"I have time, I think," he said. "Sorceress Edea was right in that he would have to be much older before he could safely break the prison. But, lady, eventually he must. He has inherited my ring - and with it, my wrong. Had you lived, it would have fallen to you. And most likely it would have killed you. If you permit it, I will see that it does not kill him."

"What a fool you are," said Raine flatly, "to think that you could tell me this, and I would countenance your getting my son involved at all. He doesn't know about your damn ring, and he most certainly doesn't know about your damn wrong!" She hugged her arms across her chest as if to hold back sobs, and said, "He doesn't even know about _me_. Leave him out of your game, Leonhart of the whoever. He's got a clean slate. Please Hyne, let it be good for _something_." She pleaded now - she knew she couldn't protect her son against an accomplished fighter, but still she tried.

Their argument was interrupted then, as the child Squall cocked his head - evidently being called. He got up from his perch and made his way back to the house, flickering in and out of view as the ring bounced on its chain, the two ghosts following. Edea was evidently aware of their presence, but spent her time trying to cheer the boy and whoever it was sitting with him - someone called Seifer, who was evidently annoyed at having been forced to amuse himself without company.

Then Squall and Seifer were sent to bed, and Edea was evidently alone in the kitchen. "I sense you," she said. "I would appreciate it if you not bother him now - when ghosts speak in his dreams, he has nightmares. And he already has enough of those, I can assure you." There was a hint of disapproval in her voice for that. "You may think yourself beyond my reach, being ghosts. I will tell you now, and tell you once only - there is no place beyond the reach of a Sorceress. Touch my children, and you will find out exactly how much I can do."

"Perceptive, isn't she," said Leonhart curiously. "What an Empress she would have made..."

"Are you talking about Adel?" asked Raine. "She's the only Sorceress I know about who's trying to rule anything, and she's not exactly on my list of favorite people. She took Ellone...I can only hope Laguna found her, because I can't see either of them."

"No, not Adel," said Leonhart. "I have seen Adel - actually, it was from her that I worked out I should come here. Adel is a corrupted Sorceress - she has no Knight to keep her sane, as this Edea does." He turned to Raine. "I will make a deal with you. I will tell you how it was - how the Empire was ruled, how Griever came to be and I to receive it, the lamp, everything. I will make no attempt to speak with your boy in the meantime, either. When I have told you everything, you will use it to judge whether I may influence him to break the prison I have made. If you refuse, I will leave and try to find another way - who knows, he may have children of his own one day and give the ring to them, and I can try again. If you accept, I will limit my influence to that which will be needed for him to break the prison and survive the process. I will even help you to keep other spirits away from him in the meantime - or until such time as he breaks the prison and my debt is paid. Is it a bargain?"

Raine looked at him skeptically. Plainly, she doubted his story could be _that_ good. "All right, Leonhart. I don't mind being entertained for a while. Try anything, and I'll make you regret it for the rest of your existence."

Leonhart only nodded - he and Raine understood one another. Then he began to tell his story, from the time that the Sorceress Marie found him trying to hold up her carriage as a bandit, to his arrival at the orphanage. It was a long tale, and the two of them fended off the advances of several other spirits while he was telling it. Occasionally she would tell him a little bit of lore handed down in her family, usually having to do with his ring, or something about Squall. But mostly she was content to listen, or question him for more detail. The only thing he would not tell her was the event that led to his name becoming Leonhart, and to his receipt of Griever as Marie's gift. That, he told her shortly, was personal.

It was by no means a short tale, and with the interruptions of other ghosts eager to latch on to a visible non-Sorceress, it was several days before he finished. At the end of it, they each understood the other's position more clearly - Raine had had good reason not to leave her son's side, Leonhart found. Every spirit that intruded had just one oh-so-reasonable request, that it was willing to fight Raine to see accomplished. Leonhart and Raine worked together then, to render them mute or otherwise harmless until they did not return. It was easy for him to see why Raine regarded him as just another spirit with just another request, especially since the intrusions came almost hourly. It also raised her in his estimation - for obviously, alone and without training, she had managed to keep all such intruders away from her son for the five or so years of his life. Still, the constant intrusions were wearying on a spiritual level - for both of them knew they would never cease as long as Squall carried the ring. It was easy to see why Raine was so snappish and hassled, but still she had persevered. Leonhart had to conclude she had a core of steel, to work so ceaselessly for her son.

And Raine understood that it _wasn't_ just another request. Yes, like all the others Leonhart had a wrong he needed a living person to right for him. But it wasn't simple human justice that was driving him - he had wronged a Guardian Force, a godlike being who would otherwise be trapped for all time. It wasn't a simple case of a murdered person wanting justice, or a forgetful person wanting to pass on a message. A powerful life was at stake. A life that - and this part caught Raine's interest - would be indebted to her son if he freed it.

She had seen the future Squall and the dying Sorceress, not long ago. Squall would need all the power he could get. When Leonhart finished his tale, she nodded her agreement. "You can speak to him," she said reluctantly. "Help him grow to be a strong fighter. He'll be in a war whether I want it or not. The least I can do is give him the best possible chance of success."

Leonhart nodded gravely. "I will limit my influence to that which is needed only," he said. "I will try to teach everything I can. And when the prison is broken, I will leave him in peace." He looked away for a moment. "Perhaps then, I will find my Marie again."

* * * * * * * *

It wasn't long before the Sorceress Edea fled the orphanage, getting as far away as she could before Ultimecia's hold on her was complete. The ghosts saw the kind Sorceress' battle, but could offer no aid. Their mere presence was a distraction to her. After she left the child Squall grew if anything more withdrawn, seeking out-of-the-way places where he might cry unnoticed.

Leonhart left it to Raine, to offer what comfort she could. Surely, she would be better at it than he. He wasn't sure if this boy was really the one he'd need - but it was very hard to accurately gauge adult potential when all you could see was a child.

Then Squall was taken from Centra to Balamb Island. The ghosts knew that Edea's Knight was responsible, for they saw him carrying the lamp to one of the boxes that went with Squall. They split up to verify that the same man removed the lamp from the box, too. Squall was given a black uniform embroidered with silver thread, and apparently was now in some sort of military academy.

Both ghosts found themselves wishing Squall were the sort of person who conversed with others. Much of what went on they had to infer from surroundings. But now Leonhart took over most of the watching, for when Squall began combat training he could reinforce the lessons, and impart additional options. Raine spent her time trying to get Edea's Knight to hold the lamp, in the hope that some answers might be given.

He seemed to be of help, at least. Shortly after coming to Garden, though, Squall stopped crying. Slowly, though his skills in fighting grew, his emotional responses dropped. To Leonhart, it was like watching someone grow into Lan. He'd always wondered how Lan could have possibly ended up the way he did. But Squall was not Lan - there was still a soul there, walled off behind pitiless gray eyes.

Leonhart almost wished he had not agreed to limit his influence to helping the boy in combat. Jian had been quite right in his judgement of Lan, and if this boy - with this attitude - were to free him, Jian might react without thinking. Even Raine couldn't get the boy to react most of the time now, and it was disturbing her greatly.

"What are they doing to him?" she pleaded once. "Why are they doing this?"

Leonhart had only the truth, as he saw it. "They teach him to fight," he said. "But he's too young. It takes a toll on a young mind, to learn to fight too soon, and worse - to know it is real and no game. You saw how he reacted to his first battle."

"Didn't you say you taught your Squires to fight?" asked Raine. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No," said Leonhart flatly. "Never did we send the Squires against human foes, not unless there was no choice. They dueled each other to first blood only, and even fights with monsters were limited. I kept my Squires safe in a fortress of their own making, so they did not have to fight unless they left it. This place - the Empress would have destroyed it with her own hands, had it been made in Centra. I would give a great deal to know why this Knight of the Sorceress Edea's has done this."

Raine watched her son thoughtfully for a while. "It may be because of Squall himself," she said, half to herself. "I didn't tell you about that - but one day, after Ellone was taken, I saw Squall run out to search for her. I was about to follow him, to make sure he was safe - when lo and behold there he was in front of me! Only not a child, but full-grown and wearing the most outlandish clothes. A wounded Sorceress appeared soon after, and he moved to kill her but Edea stopped him. She took the dying Sorceress' powers, and the other Sorceress disappeared."

Raine looked thoughtful a moment. "The full-grown Squall mentioned 'SeeD' - something designed to kill sorceresses. And 'Garden', which trains 'SeeD'. Edea had no idea what he was talking about, and shortly thereafter the older Squall disappeared again. If they're teaching him to kill...perhaps they're teaching him to kill Sorceresses like Adel, or the one who appeared on Edea's doorstep."

"It is _wrong_!" cried Leonhart. "To condemn a Sorceress to death merely because she exists, with no chance to prove herself? It is my own mistake, thrown back at me ten times over! Raine, if I had not struck this bargain with you, I would leave right now. To teach this boy to kill what may well be an innocent girl..."

Raine's face was set. "Adel is no innocent, Leonhart, and you know it. If they are being sent to fight her, they need all the help they can get."

"And the girl who Adel passes her power on to? Who came up with this idea? It makes no sense to kill Sorceresses - not this way at least! She'll always pass her power on to someone else, she has to, and her successor will know exactly who her enemy is. It's a state of war between this SeeD and the Sorceresses, and it's a war that SeeD must eventually lose - for the number of Sorceresses can never be made zero for long. Even if you manage to give the world only one Sorceress, and she becomes a Guardian Force...another Sorceress or two or three will be born eventually."

Raine waited quietly while Leonhart fumed, but did not appear overly moved. "We'll just have to see, Leonhart," she said. "It's not as though we can change anything - and before you ask, the answer is no. You may not make my boy an instrument of your crusade. I have faith in him - I can still see a soul in his eyes. The Garden hasn't crushed him yet. If he finds a good Sorceress, I have faith he will do what is right."

"I hope so," said Leonhart heavily. "If he doesn't, though, I swear I will drive him mad."

"You'll have to go through me first," Raine replied coolly.

* * * * * * * *

The two didn't speak much after that, each attending to what they saw as their duty. Leonhart recited tactics and strategy almost non-stop, and sent suggestions to perfect the boy's form with his rather clunky-looking sword-gun. Raine tried to elicit emotional responses, or at least keep some shred of the boy's soul alive. And both of them fought any other spirit that tried to get close - Leonhart giving Raine a few pointers in that arena as well, since once Diablos was free he would leave.

He'd have to admit, though, that the quiet boy had grown on him. There was something in him that reminded Leonhart of Jian, though he couldn't say exactly what.

Finally, the work appeared to be done. Squall's silver-on-black uniform was changed to gold-on-black, and he went to a celebration. Raine was delighted; Squall had never shown the slightest interest in social gatherings. Someone even dragged him onto the dance floor. Leonhart laughed as he recognized the dance steps, and called out a few pointers. The dance was an old, old waltz, and it pleased the Knight no end that someone, somewhere, had preserved it from the ruins of his Empire.

It was a good sign - a sign of fortune. And it was borne out, as well - for the next day, Squall was summoned into the presence of Edea's Knight and given a mission. Both Raine and Leonhart heard every word, for in the man's pocket was the lamp - one hand caressing it nervously.

"Give it to him," said Leonhart - _willing_ the bumbling man to obey. "Give Squall the lamp."

It worked. As Squall moved to leave the Garden, Cid reached out a hand to stop him. "Oh, and Squall," he said, "I forgot to give you this. It's a cursed item, but if one with enough power uses it, it should be of great help."

Squall turned back and accepted the lamp wordlessly, then moved again to leave. This time, he did not stop.

Raine turned to Leonhart. "Well, the moment you've been working for has arrived. My son has your lamp. Is he strong enough to use it?"

Leonhart considered the question carefully. If Squall failed, it might well be twenty or thirty years more before another attempt could be made. In the end he decided that yes, Squall was probably strong enough. "I think so," he said. "Only one way to know, though. Squall - open the lamp. Open the lamp. Open. The. Lamp."

Squall was remarkably resistant to suggestions which carried an element of risk, he found. He didn't bring out the lamp until Raine - who was getting rather tired of hearing Leonhart repeat the same phrase over and over - joined her voice in the suggestion. But when he did, he wasted no time in unscrewing the lid - revealing the steel orb within. Darkness poured from that orb, and when it cleared Squall was gone.

"What happened?" demanded Raine. "What did you do?"

Leonhart shrugged. "I did nothing," he said. "This is the trial - he is in their prison now. If he fails, he joins them. If he succeeds, they are bonded to him. What is the word he uses? Junctioned?"

Raine seethed. "You didn't tell me that, you bastard," she snapped. "I swear by Hyne, if he fails, you are going to wish you were alive again _just_ so you could die."

"I rather doubt you could do worse to me than the Sorceress I imprisoned had in mind," Leonhart said mildly. "But I am sure she would welcome any tips you might offer her. I bid you good day, Raine Leonhart." And with that, he left her - his bargain was done. Perhaps now he might find his Marie.

* * * * * * * *

Jian and Carolin woke with a start. Something had changed. "Who dares disturb my sleep?" they said together.

The question had a rather obvious answer, though. Two young men and a woman were in their realm, weapons at the ready and fists raised. That in itself was enough to anger Carolin - this was _their_ world, after all, and they should be shown proper respect. But what alerted them both that this was no ordinary fight was the sight of the group's leader. A young man in outlandish clothes, with Lan's coolness and the Lion's face. Almost - a deep red scar slashed its way from his right brow to his left cheek. Had it not been there, Jian and Carolin might have sworn it was some trick of the Lion's, some new betrayal to kill them rather than set them free.

It was enough to unbalance them both severely, and with their long sleep they were already more than a little confused. They fought the three warriors with everything they had - swiping with their claws, and using their pulling power to try and drag the trio into the ground. But they were weak, as Bahamut had proclaimed them, and eventually they had to admit it. "Too much sleep," muttered the Sorceress-half. "Too weak," mumbled the Knight-half. They fell to one knee - not out of any respect for their foes, but simply out of exhaustion. They had been trapped in a dream for Hyne only knew how long, deprived of any contact with the rest of the world that might have sustained them.

The one with the scar approached them then, pulled off his left glove, and held his hand out to them. Jian instantly recognized the ring on his finger. _It is Griever!_ he told Carolin. _How does he come to have Griever?_

_Probably the same way he comes to have Leonhart's face,_ returned Carolin unconcernedly. _ At last we understand why Bahamut said Leonhart must be persuaded to influence events - this person must be a descendant of some sort. I don't think he pulled his glove off to show us his ring, though. What do we do now?_

Jian gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. _Take his hand, I suppose,_ he said. _He won, but I don't see our prison disappearing just yet._

Carolin agreed, and they reached out one black-clawed hand to take the one held out to them.

Neither were quite sure what happened next. It felt as though they were being sucked into the boy's body - but at the same time they could see light. Finally, light! They weren't in their realm any longer. Neither were they alone - another couple stood nearby, the Sorceress and Knight both wearing outfits of sewn skins, lightning-bolt patterns painted in yellow and red across sun-browned cheeks. Between them stood a hazy image of a yellow-plumed bird with arcing bolts flickering across its yellow-white eyes.

"Welcome," they said in a lilting cadence. "We are Quezacotl. Who are you?"

"Diablos," said Jian and Carolin together. "Where are we?"

"You walk in the eternal realm," said Quezacotl, "But you may see through this mortal's eyes when you choose. You are bonded to him - junctioned to him."

Carolin didn't like the sound of that. "We're _what_?" they asked.

"It is a good thing, not a bad one," said Quezacotl patiently. "Junctioned to a mortal, we grow in power. You are weak, Diablos. Junctioned to this one, you will grow strong. As we do. Already, we have learned to turn monsters into mere images of themselves."

"We'll see," said Jian and Carolin.

* * * * * * * *

Over the next few months they did grow to know Squall pretty well, and both of them learned important things. Jian learned that Squall was different from his old leader in several important respects - the most important being that he tended not to assume something was dangerous until it proved it _was_, though he mistrusted just about everything and everyone he laid eyes on. This made Jian much more comfortable - he hadn't liked the idea of serving another Lion at all.

Carolin, for her part, got an extensive education in exactly what it had been that the Lion feared when he caged her. Squall fought against the possessed Edea - Diablos was relieved that he forbore to kill her once she was no longer a threat - and the insane sorceresses Adel and Ultimecia, but agreed to serve as Knight to the benign sorceress Rinoa.

Even Carolin had to admit that the Lion had probably acted within the bounds of prudence, based on the evidence he had had. It didn't make her love him, but she was willing to forgo hunting him down and putting him back in a personal hell now that she was free.

Once Ultimecia was defeated, Squall released his junction into the storage banks of the Garden. At this point Diablos was as free as it had ever been, to roam the eternal realm and meet other Guardian Forces. Carolin was at this stage too curious to want to separate, though they quickly determined that they couldn't, 'junctioned' as they were to the Garden's storage banks. Periodically they checked on the sole surviving Sorceress, until the day they saw Squall appear again.

When he did, they realized that it was a good thing they had _not_ separated, after all. Diablos might still be needed.


	10. Alliance

Carolin observed with interest as Squall watched over Rinoa's bedside. Like Jian, she'd gotten to know the young man pretty well after he'd freed them from the lamp. 

One of the things she knew was that he was very careful about his appearance - always neat. But this morning, he wasn't. Rinoa had done something - neither of them were quite sure what, as they'd only popped in when Squall put Griever on again - and now she was lying injured and unconscious in the Infirmary. Squall was tired and rumpled, but his eyes never left her face as he held her hand. 

Something about his attitude caught Carolin's attention. He hadn't looked quite like this when Rinoa had been unconscious before. Then, he had seemed confused, desperate. Now he was wounded. She felt a surge of sympathy from Jian, and turned to look at him. 

He looked at Squall as one looks at a person going through a hell they've already visited themselves. Not pity - understanding and sympathy. "We should go, my lady," he said softly. "Wait until she recovers - she's a Sorceress, so it shouldn't be too long. He is a private sort and would want to be alone with her." 

Carolin agreed, but not for that reason. The tone of the murmuring of Jian's thoughts in her head was telling her that the sight of the unconscious Sorceress bothered him. Once out of the couple's metaphorical sight, she confronted him on it. 

"Jian, why do they affect you so? Squall doesn't hold our junction anymore, yet you insisted we keep an eye on him. Will you explain this to me?" 

Jian, if anything, seemed hurt by the question. "Milady, he loves her. He is her Knight, and he loves her. And he doesn't know how to tell her, even though he knows she loves him. I suppose, in a way I envy him." 

"Why should you envy him, Jian? You make no sense." 

Jian's face twisted for a moment, and in that moment Carolin picked up a flash of pure hurt from him - as though she had wounded him. "Always you ask me questions to which you should already know the answers, milady. We've been together for centuries, and never once have you listened to my thoughts unless you had a question you wished me to answer." He turned away from her then. He'd taken to wearing a crimson silk cape in recent months, and it flared a little with the violence of his movement. "I envy him, because while his Sorceress can't know how he feels, at least she has reason for not knowing. He hasn't brought their bond to life. She can't sense his emotions, his thoughts. Lady Carolin, I hear your thoughts just as you hear mine, but unlike you I _listen_ to what I hear. It's not noise to me. I know _everything_ about how you feel. I know how you've felt about everything we've encountered, everything we've done together. And you know next to _nothing_ about me. I walk in your mind, but you don't listen to me. And I've never made you listen to me either. I know how easily you come to feel trapped, how you resent this existence. Yes, I envy Squall. He may not be able to say the words, but at least he loves a Sorceress who loves him back." 

Carolin was surprised. "Jian, I was respecting your privacy. I am very surprised to find you don't respect mine. We became Diablos because it was either that or die. Of course I didn't read your thoughts. You helped to save my life; to ask more is an imposition." 

Her answer didn't mollify Jian in the least. "Carolin, Lady, it is obvious that you never asked why I wanted to throw away everything I'd ever known to go running after a wild Sorceress in the first place. I can't break our bond, not while we're junctioned to the Garden, but since you wish to be left alone then that is how I will leave you. Perhaps distance will let you have the privacy you so desire." With a rather indignant flare of his cape, he disappeared. 

He was right. His thoughts in her mind dimmed to the faintest of whispers, that any noise at all - including her own thoughts - would drown out. She was as alone as she might ever be and yet be sane. She walked back in to the Infirmary and watched a relieved smile flicker across Squall's face as Rinoa awakened, followed them as they returned to her room. 

Something about these two had set Jian off. She would watch them and find out what it was. 

* * * * * * * *

Over the next few days, Carolin watched Squall and Rinoa constantly. Their relationship was very strange, from her point of view. It was obvious that Rinoa doted on her Knight, but the only evidence he usually gave of returning the affection came in rare, private, unguarded moments when his expression softened as he watched her, or stroked her cheek as she slept. Why did she put up with it? Jian never would have been so rude to her as Squall was to Rinoa - well, before he left anyway. They seemed to have a set quota of arguments a day, though they sounded more like intellectual debates than heated catfights. He was teaching her, it seemed, about his career. After sundown, Rinoa started teaching him about Knights. 

Carolin enjoyed listening to those lessons. It would have been very nice if she could have taught Jian about what _she_ felt Knights should do, rather than have to rely on him to understand the job himself. But Rinoa seemed to be honest, and told Squall nothing that Carolin knew to be untrue about the role. Squall didn't really defend Rinoa, she found. Rather, he did his best to put her in a position to be able to defend herself, not relying on him at all. _That_ approach was one she was sure Jian didn't share. 

She was joined before long by another Guardian Force - and she was careful to be respectful, for it was Bahamut. 

"Greetings, Diablos-Sorceress," they said. "We have a duty to perform. You would be wise not to interfere." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied lightly. "I'm just watching, anyway." 

"Indeed," said Bahamut, with a reptilian laugh. "Diablos-Sorceress, you put your hand in the briar patch and do not even notice the thorns that draw your blood. Watch as we prepare the road to the future where we are free." The two reached out with their power then, and touched Squall as he slept. "A millennium hence we cast your dreams, o once and future leader." 

Grinning almost maliciously, the oracular Guardian Force gave a nod of acknowledgment to Carolin and left. Squall began to toss and turn, his sleep uneasy until a wakened Rinoa touched him to calm him down. 

Carolin frowned. For Squall to be a leader in a thousand years, he would have to become one with Rinoa. A new Guardian Force. And she'd gotten the impression that doing that was rare. She'd seen enough - to watch these two was just to hear yet another justification for this joined state that seemed so confining. 

"Why didn't you stop them?" asked a woman's voice. Startled, Carolin turned around to face a shade that bore a strong resemblance to Squall. 

She was being addressed by ghosts now? The shade was plainly afraid, but determined. "Why didn't you stop them hurting him like that?" she repeated. 

Carolin frowned. "Do I know you?" she asked. 

"I'm Raine," said the shade. "I'm Squall's mother. I know about you - you're the Guardian Force my son freed from that lamp. I thought that might mean you'd protect him, but I guess not." She seemed a little upset about that. 

"His mother?" asked Carolin, surprised. "Would my own parents be here then?" 

"Probably," said Raine. "If you look for them. Why are _you_ watching my son, if you won't protect him?" 

Carolin watched the Sorceress and Knight, the one's arms wrapped around the other in sleep. "Jian - my Knight - is affected by them. I was wondering why, so I watch them." 

Raine nodded. "I've seen him around. He's a good man, I think. Good heart." She spoke as one who knew this implicitly. 

"You think so? He doesn't respect my privacy at all. He admitted to reading my thoughts, constantly!" 

Raine took a perch on a handy rock, fairly at ease since the presence of a Guardian Force kept away other spirits. "Diablos...have you ever taken a good look at the men in the world? I mean, in a relationship sense?" 

"No," said Carolin firmly. "I lived in a fairly small settlement, and I was only sixteen in any case. I had to stay away from them in case they realized I was a Sorceress." 

Raine leaned forward. "Maybe you should take that look, sometime. I've known lots of women who wasted their lives looking for their idea of perfection. There's no such thing as a perfect woman, so why should there be a perfect man?" She nodded down at the tent where her son and his Sorceress slept. "Take these two. Rinoa's flighty, optimistic to the point of being unreal, and has a nasty tendency to get manipulative under pressure. If I had to deal with her every day, she'd probably drive me crazy. But my son loves her - so much so that I think he'd probably die for her. And I love him dearly, but my boy couldn't understand romance if you handed him a manual with colored full-size diagrams. Still, she loves him anyway." 

"And your point is?" asked Carolin, a little coldly. 

"My point is, O Divine One, that you're looking for something that doesn't exist - and while you're looking you're ignoring something very good that _does_. I've seen your Knight, Diablos. He loves you the way my boy here loves Rinoa - with every fiber in his being. Love's not that common a commodity in this world, that you should throw it away without considering what you're doing. You may not love him in a fireworks-in-the-sky sort of way, but you should at least open yourself to the possibility before you send him away." 

She hopped down off her rock. "You can probably banish me if you've a mind to," she finished forthrightly, "but you strike me as a fairly intelligent person. I don't think you'll take out your fury at the message on the messenger." 

"You are right," said Carolin, thoughtfully. "But - if I may ask...how do you come to be here? Squall is young yet." 

Raine grimaced. "Right to the point," she said. "If it helps you...I was in labor, and they said they could save me - or him," and she waved a hand at the tent, "and I said save him. The medics were as good as their word; they saved him. They couldn't save me too, but it was my choice. I suppose technically that makes me a suicide." 

"Then my parents were suicides too," said Carolin firmly. "They died so I could live, when monsters attacked our house." She looked up for a moment, meeting Raine's serene blue-gray eyes. "I think you have helped me, Raine. Thank you." 

Raine just waved her hand at the tent. "Anytime you need me, look for him. I'm never far. Thanks for hanging around, by the way. A protective Guardian Force is much more effective than just a protective mother." 

Carolin nodded her acceptance of the offer, and took off to look for Jian. There were things she needed to know. Again - but perhaps this time it wouldn't bother him to answer her. 

* * * * * * * *

Carolin had no luck finding her Knight for a long time - he had an entire world to make himself scarce in, after all. After a few days of _feeling_ him distance himself whenever she got even remotely close, she simply chose a scenic spot and stayed put. 

Perhaps not coincidentally, the spot she chose was Timber. It was a far cry from the mere huddle of log houses she had known before the Joining, but it was still a provincial town and looked it. If she concentrated, she could remember the old placement of buildings and streets - overlaying the old map on the new to see exactly what had changed. 

Neither her home nor the Lion's compound survived. Not that it surprised her. Both had been rather significantly distant from the settlement's center, and when the Lion was blinded and the Squires scattered, it was probably taken as a sign of ill fortune. Which it had been, just not for the populace in general. 

Her parent's graves were completely overgrown. Only because she knew exactly where they had been was she able to detect the slight bulge where the plant growth had slowly broken down the headstones. She took a seat on that bulge; it was as good, and as private, a spot as any. 

Jian's complaint had been that she never listened to his thoughts but only tuned them out. Evidently the reverse was _still_ not true, for he could tell when she grew nearer to him and would distance himself again. But if he could still make out her thoughts in his mind, then she should be able to hear the whispers of his wishes in her mind as well. This place was quiet. Hopefully, quiet enough to hear the whispers. 

He was...pained. Not physically. Even listening strongly, he was far enough away that she couldn't make out the words of his thoughts. Something was affecting him, but not affecting _him_ personally. 

She grinned. There were only two people that she knew of that he cared about besides herself. One was the old Lion, and she didn't think the old Knight was really able to hurt Jian's feelings any more. He'd gotten all of that out of his system years ago. 

That just left the _young_ Lion, as Bahamut had put it. The one who'd indirectly set this all off in the first place. She could locate any mortal she could see - and if Jian could see Squall, then so could she. She was just about to wish herself there when the whole tenor of Jian's mood changed. 

There was a brief flash of startlement, then the already quiet surges of emotion quieted even more. 

Curiosity got the better of her. It had better be Squall he was reacting to. If it wasn't, Carolin had no idea where to look for him. She wished herself _there_. 

Jian was startled to see her, that was certain. She got a dose of startlement herself when he immediately grabbed her arm and she felt his will conceal them. Even spirits wouldn't see them now. 

"My lady, you picked a bad time to start listening to me," he said quietly and not very friendly. "There are evil people in this world. Did you feel the junction shift?" 

Carolin blinked. "You aren't reading my thoughts?" At his positively venomous glare, she backed up. "Right. Yes, I felt the junction shift. But we haven't been summoned yet, so I doubt it matters. Jian, I realize you're angry with me so I won't assume I have the right to read your thoughts unless you give some sign it's all right. Okay?" 

The anger faded from Jian's face somewhat. "All right," he said. "But not here. I'm not setting foot in this little hell-pit again unless I'm summoned to bring the ceiling down on it. How does Timber sound?" 

She smiled, though she was still more than a little puzzled at his shift in attitude. "Timber's fine. I was just there myself." 

"I know," he said, and wished them there. 

* * * * * * * *

"Now, suppose you tell me - since you don't want me to listen more directly - what you want with me. Got another question for me, I suppose?" Jian let her arm go abruptly, standing some distance away from her with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword under his cape. 

Carolin wondered if he knew it was a pose he'd picked up from watching Squall so much, but decided not to ask. By the sound of it, she would only be allowed one question. And really, she only _had_ one. Its answer would probably give her the answers to all the others in her head. She nerved herself, and asked it. 

"Jian, do you love me?" 

She wasn't sure what she had expected him to do, or say, but crying hadn't been on the list. But that was what he was doing - he wasn't even trying to blink them away, but let them flow from beneath closed lids. 

His voice was unsteady as he said, "You may be the only person on this world who has to ask that." He leaned back against an old building as if willing it to keep him upright. "I stood up to the Lion for you - a leader I loved. I even fought the bastard for you. I ran away from the only friends I had - the only _family_ I had, the Lion my father and the Squires my brothers - all for you. I joined you in that damn lamp for Hyne only knows how long rather than let you die. I have listened to your thoughts and dreams and done my best to give you as happy a life as I can, even if it meant dropping everything I was doing because you chose to go somewhere too close to me, where my thoughts might otherwise intrude on your peace." 

"And you - _you_ - ask whether I love you." He opened his eyes then, dark earth-brown brimming with tears yet unshed. "Since you must want a simple answer, it's yes. Practically from that first day at the stream. Not that I've ever been more to you than a tool to use, but at least you're alive to do the using. I'll take what I can get." 

Carolin really couldn't think of an answer to all of that, and wasn't actually sure she should try. Instead, she decided to use the bond between them - the bond that Jian had kept strong more or less on his own, preventing Diablos from weakening. Jian heard her more easily than she heard him, simply because he was more open to doing so. To get you had to give, and he had always worn his heart on his sleeve. She simply had never bothered to notice. If she opened her mind to listen, really _listen_ to his thoughts, she would hear more in his words than mere vocal cords could express. 

It wasn't the easiest step in the world for her to take, but she didn't want Raine to be right. She didn't want to have thrown love away without even knowing it was there. 

So she would know it first, and then decide. Touch made the bond stronger; she took Jian's hands in hers. She opened her mind to him, and let herself drown for the first time in soft brown eyes. 

Jian's colors were crimson and gold, sunshine and the bright blood of the heart. Or the colors of flame, if you wanted to look at it that way. They were eminently appropriate either way, as Carolin was overwhelmed by Jian's thoughts and emotions. He'd never hidden them from her - he'd never needed to. In her own version of independence, she'd refused to look or listen - until now. There was no darkness in Jian at all. Wounds did not scar him any more than a blade could scar a candle flame. They were transient things, and did nothing to dim the golden brightness. The scarlet of bright heart's blood was love, deep and passionate and soft as feathers. Most of Jian's world was Carolin - how to protect her, and to keep her happy. And a small, guiltily selfish joy that he was Joined with her. 

Had she done this sooner, the darkness of the lamp-prison would have been nothing at all. To those with eyes to see, Jian's spirit practically glowed like a small sun. 

It was enough to break a heart, for Carolin knew she did not love Jian. There had been no time for courtship in the jungles of Timber, no time for her to learn to reach out as anything other than a comrade, a friend. Their mental states were almost locked at the time of their Joining - Jian had managed to fall in love with Carolin in the space of a few days or weeks, but that had been when they were human. For Carolin to grow into love, now that they were a Guardian Force, would take centuries. And Jian had known this would be the case all along, simply accepting her lack of love as the price for her life. 

_So you decide at last to open your eyes, my Sorceress?_ he asked. 

_Doesn't it hurt to love when it isn't returned?_

A ripple of wry laughter. _It might have, if we were merely human and could easily change, my lady. You can't help that you're slower to love than I am. I console myself with the hope that, now your eyes are open, you'll grow to love me. We can't help what we are, my lady. Why cry over it? It isn't as though I'm uncompensated for my efforts. I hear your thoughts and dreams in my mind every second of every day. That's more than many lovers ever get to share._

_You just did, though. Cry, I mean. Don't do that again, all right?_

_As long as you quit asking me questions to which you should already know the answers, certainly. Lady, I can accept that you don't love me. What hurts is thinking you might not like me, even enough to listen to my thoughts in your mind. That what I endured to save you might have given you a fate worse than death._ He wrapped his arms around her then, an affectionate but loose embrace. Always, he was careful not to cage her. 

They stood like that for an undefinable while, in a state not unlike the dream they'd shared when sleeping in the Lamp. This time, though, the balance was different. Before, Jian had dominated the dream since he heard both Carolin's thoughts and his own. Now it was equal, as each explored the other's thoughts, emotions, and memories. The first great Ripple only barely intruded on their consciousness. 

The second Ripple was unignorable, though. The power of it sent a psychic wind through the eternal realm that blew wildly through their hair, tugging heavily at Jian's crimson cape. 

It had come from the northeast. Esthar. Working as one, Diablos wished itself _there_. 

* * * * * * * *

Seen from this side of life, the shift from mortal to Guardian Force was a little bit different. Squall and Rinoa were becoming _real_ to Diablos' eyes. More present, and their eyes glowed whitely as they shifted from human to the glowing amber-gold cat's-eyes of Griever. They were visibly stronger now, radiating power that greatly surprised Diablos. For a moment or two, a translucent image of their Guardian shape hovered in the air around them, then it took Zell's hand and disappeared. 

The Guardian Forces had a new leader, Diablos knew. The psychic wave that radiated outward from this pair's entry to the ranks of Guardian Forces was far stronger than any they had ever felt. Even Bahamut could not hope to stand against this power. Briefly, Diablos amused itself in wondering whether the oracular Guardian Force would even try, and whether it would be able to watch. 

Jian, for his part, was delighted. Having spent many months in Squall's company, he trusted this new Force far more than Bahamut. Even Carolin agreed that this shift in power was probably to their benefit. So the two of them inclined their heads to Griever, and Jian said, "Welcome to our ranks, Griever. We are glad you chose to join us." 

Squall and Rinoa shared a look. "Who are you, and how do you know us?" they asked together - and seemed almost surprised that they had. Jian and Carolin both smiled; this new Force had a lot to learn. At least they'd have an easier time of it. "We are known to you as Diablos, Griever," said Jian - as Carolin still didn't feel like talking much. "As to how we know your name, we remember you. We fought you, at the other end of time. And we know your Token of old." 

Mentioning the future put both Squall and Rinoa on the defensive. She raised her hands, as if preparing a spell, and Squall put his hand to the hilt of his gunblade. "We want to change the future, Diablos. Are you here to judge us?" 

"Would we have welcomed you here, if that were our purpose?" asked Jian/Diablos. "How do you plan on changing the future we both have seen?" 

"By serving SeeD," said Griever. "If we serve them from now until Ultimecia's rising, perhaps we will be strong enough to resist her and save SeeD from destruction." They paused, sharing a look. "Diablos, would you be willing to work with us to that end?" 

Carolin frowned; Jian understood her reluctance as being one of commitment to this state rather than working toward freedom. Thoughts flashed, then Jian returned his gaze to Griever. 

"If we assist you, will you use your influence with your comrades to set us free?" asked Jian. "Truly free - no more junctions, either to humankind or the Garden?" 

Rinoa looked at Squall; evidently this was his decision. His expression was positively forbidding as he mulled it over. "A compromise," he said at last. "We will work to set you free, but at a time when the world needs a Sorceress and her Knight. You will do what needs to be done, then separate or re-join as an independent creature when you've fulfilled that duty. Agreed? Garden needs all the power it can get - losing a Guardian Force would weaken it badly." 

Carolin was agreeable to that, it seemed. She had a healthy respect for the power these two commanded, and like Jian she had faith that Squall would keep his word to them. It might be a long time before they were freed, but Squall would see to it that eventually they were. That was enough. Both of them nodded acceptance. Bahamut had spoken truly; all that the old Lion had caged, the young Lion would free. Jian grinned, and even Carolin managed a smile. 

"Well, then, O Scarfaced One," said Jian cheerfully, "We'd better get you up to speed on the Guardian Forces. You've got a lot to learn, and the sooner the better." 

Rinoa clapped a hand over her mouth to stop laughing, and Squall glared. Jian paused momentarily - but only momentarily. He knew Squall better than to think he would be attacked. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said Squall had a lot to learn, and Squall was wise enough to know it. 

"That reminds us," he said companionably. "There's some people you probably ought to meet..." 

~Ende~


End file.
